


Secrets and Lies

by JValentine0



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood and Violence, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, M/M, Partners in Crime, Survival Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:19:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 36,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29148825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JValentine0/pseuds/JValentine0
Summary: "Fate is cruel. Time is never on our side." AU story crossing the timeline of Resident Evil.
Relationships: Annette Birkin/William Birkin, Barry Burton/Kathy Burton, Chris Redfield/Original Female Character(s), Jill Valentine/Albert Wesker, Leon S. Kennedy/Ada Wong, Leon S. Kennedy/Chris Redfield, Rebecca Chambers/Billy Coen, Rebecca Chambers/Edward Dewey, Steve Burnside/Claire Redfield
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

"Nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer; nothing is more difficult than to understand him." –Fyodor Dostoyevsky

1996

A small midwestern town in America, Raccoon City seemed as quaint and quiet as any other. The only real excitement would be the Fourth of July celebration or the jazz festival. The city was never one to be ridden with scandal or news beyond a local official taking a bribe here and there. A reporter was always right on their heels to get the scoop and break the story.

The city thrived, despite poor choices by its political leadership. The people were pleasant. The pace was slow but the town was growing every year as crime numbers continued to fall. The Umbrella Corporation kept the economy flowing to the point that other towns looked on in envy at the diamond that was Raccoon City. Chief Irons and his police force kept the peace. A special task force, S.T.A.R.S. was formed within the police department, which served to protect the city and keep trouble from spilling into it from the mountains surrounding the proverbial 'Pleasantville'.

Sadly, in a few years from this present time, the city would be wiped off the map. What a waste...

In Denver, a place that luckily would escape such a horrid fate, is where our story really begins. Dick Valentine was recently arrested on charges for theft. One taillight out on a dirt road one night, a search of his trunk and the man was in cuffs. His only phone call would be made with the intentions to not save his own hide. No, the chase was finally over for Dick. There wasn't a defense attorney within one-hundred miles that would represent him at this point, not without being selected by the state. Regret swam through the old man's head as he strode alongside the two guards appointed to escort him to the telephones. The orange jumpsuit stood out against his pale appearance and graying hair. It hung from the thief's body more like a bed sheet than a jumpsuit. The shackles made their soft clanking sound with each step taken. It felt like an eternity before they reached the end of the cellblock, with all of the yelling from others detained. The taller guard unlocked the door before them, and Dick step through into the chill air-conditioning.

Approaching the phone, he awkwardly lifted it from the cradle and began to dial. Sighing deeply, he waited patiently for a pickup on the other end of the line. _'Please be there.'_ He thought, crow's footed eyes shutting weakly as each second passed and drew closer to no answer. Finally, someone picked up and a familiar voice chimed on the other end.

"Wesker."

A tired grin formed on the man's chapped lips, steel gray eyes opening. "It's been a long time, Albert… It's Dick."

Silence on the other end, and then a sigh. The sound of swift movement is followed by an unmistakable slamming of a door. "You're supposed to call John if you needed work, Dick." The sentence was edged with ice.

"I… I know, Albert…" Dick said with a sigh, pausing. "I just didn't know who to call. I'm back in prison again."

More footsteps, and the sound of another door opening. Traffic warbled through the earpiece of the phone and filled Dick's ear as he realized that the other man was outside. Probably was a bad idea to call a cop for help, but he was desperate.

"Can't help you there, but I ca-.. How did you even get my cell number? "

"I'm Dick Valentine: I can get anything!" The older man chuckled a bit. His tone turned serious. "No, I didn't call for you to bail me out. It's my daughter that I'm concerned about. I won't be weaseling my way out of this one. I need someone to help her." His voice finally cracked, a rugged palm rising to smooth the hairs upon the top of his head. Nervous foible the old man would have until his last breath. "I thought I could give her a home and make up for lost time, but I messed up. I tried to go legit only to agreed to something I shouldn't have. I'm not leaving prison this time. Guess when these idiots needed a fall man, I became their guy."

Another sigh, muffled sounds of car door opening and shutting hard followed. "And where exactly do I fall into this?"

"I need her out of Denver. I'm sure my indictment will mean the end of being with my daughter outside of a visitors room." A cough suddenly overtook the aging man.

"Why hasn't Denver PD checked on her yet if you're so concerned?" The voice on the other end asked, echoes of an engine starting easily heard.

"I talked to one of them; they're supposedly going to go check on her in the morning. I told them she was in danger but they think I'm lying. I think there are more than just a few in Arvada's pockets. Please, Albert. Just get her out of here." Rambling now, desperation was clear.

"Considering what I owe you I will." A pause on the other end. "Does she know?" Albert asked, throwing the shifter into reverse as he backed out of the parking lot.

It was time for Dick to pause, and with a sad sigh he replied. "No, she doesn't. Never want her to know." Too much to digest, and it filtered through every note in his voice.

Clicking the turn signal for left, Wesker gazed out to the cloud formations beginning to dominate the sky. It would be raining soon. "I'm heading that way now. I'll need her phone number." Finally turning left, he sped on past the RPD, leaving Chief Irons to scratch his head and munch on his bearclaw in confusion as to why the captain was taking off long before quittin' time.

"Right. It's the usual Denver code and eh.. Five, five, five, four, seven, three, one. You lived only about four miles from us at that time. It's the same code as then."

"You don't remember it." Deadpan tones.

"Well I don't use the house phone much. Jill usually does that." Dick said with a shrug out of habit.

Ah, Jill Valentine. She had just dropped out of college when Wesker had met her. Daddy's habits likely passed down either way. Albert was still not entirely fond of this idea, but had little choice at the moment. Dick was quite the thief and had put himself in a unique position: a position where Wesker owed him more than the lion's share and then some. However, this was a settlement and it was a shame to see the old man fold to save his child from the trouble he had brought to their front door for money that likely didn't exist. What a waste. The blonde wouldn't complain, though he would be nursing a good scotch when the Birkins got word of their one solid asset landing himself in jail. Again.

"I'll be there in five hours. Arrangements will have to be made to handle moving her things in the coming weeks." Another stop made, red light.

A sigh of relief washed over Dick's end of the line, the old man smiling a bit. "You're a good man, Albert. I hope she can get a job at the Umbrella plant or something. Be a secretary, ya know? She was in the service for four years. Maybe that will help?"

"I might know someone who can give her a job, though we will have to see." Albert replied bluntly, finally tugging his sunglasses off to view the dimming road.

"I'll never be able to repay you for this." Dick uttered, finally hanging up the phone. _'Tonight, I'll finally be able to get some damn sleep…'_ He thought, as he and the guards made the long trek back to his cell.

Dialing the Valentine residence, an annoyed expression had painted itself over Wesker's features. 'Probably should have left my damn wallet in Raccoon…' He thought, grumbling a bit while the phone rang on. No answer, just the machine. "It's going to be a long night." The blonde muttered, closing the phone to focus on driving.


	2. Chapter 2

_There is a funny thing to be said about time and many neglect it. Time travels in its own patterns, slipping away as the years drag on or fly by. That is until an old man stands before a mirror, wondering what happened. This thought preoccupied a rather bored Albert Wesker as he sped through the dwindling twilight of a Colorado evening. Not in reference to himself, as he was still young enough to have a future. No, this was pertaining to Dick Valentine, who had entrusted him with the only precious thing left to his name._

1993

Umbrella was as much of a cash cow as ever, and it was yet another evening at the Stonebrook Manor for dinner and dancing for possible investors and other guests. It was just another way for Umbrella to lure more in with a display of luxury few could only dream of. Tuxedos, of course, for such a lavish occasion in celebration of the holidays. The present crowd reeked of greed and arrogance. Well that's how Albert viewed them anyway from behind a mask of indifference. No sunglasses to be found, his steel gray eyes were exposed for many women to steal a glance at as they passed him on the staircase. Why wouldn't they? He was a cruelly handsome man, tall with a contradiction of being muscular yet almost lean in form. With sleek blonde hair and a bewitching grin, whenever he bothered to show one, he was a fox amid fowl.

He rarely ever did grin. A regular rain cloud in the eyes of most people. Not that he cared. No, these people had more money than brains.

_'And anyone can see it since they're here ready to give their last dime to Spencer in exchange for a chance to share his dream. The only difference between him and a grifter is a few billion dollars.'_

The only reasons he had bothered to attend were two: William's promotion and Spencer dispersing several personal emails throughout the higher rings of Umbrella for attendance. In other words, bring a gun and expect to use it. 'Joy…' the sarcastic thought rang through his mind, accompanied by another long drink of champagne.

"Don't look so squeamish to be here, Wesker. At least the band can carry on a swing tune." The voice of William Birkin caught to the blonde's ears as the gangly looking scientist approached in tux with his wife Annette in tow. Annette was not a terrible looking woman for someone who slept at the office under a pile of papers with her husband crashed on the floor. The violet evening gown adorning her form did finally show her feminine curves. She was smiling, arm linked with William's, blue eyes peering over Albert with concern. "Where's Cassandra?" She asked.

The topic was dismissed rather quickly with a change of subject. Glass set on the railing of the stairs, Wesker folded his arms and gave the pair a once over look before offering a quick smile, and it was dropped just as swiftly as it formed. "Annette, he doesn't look like Dr. Frankenstein today, what did you do to him?"

The blonde woman laughed, "I had to blow up the lab to get him out of it. Still, where's Cassandra?" A smirk formed on the woman's lips.

"Dumped me, I think she went back to Paris to join her tribe of Euro Trash again." He uttered softly, plucking another filled glass from a passing waitress. Polishing it off, his stare returned out to the crowd. "Though, if she was looking for a wealthy husband she could have found one here. The ratio of 'stupid trophy wife' hunters is higher than normal." Words lathered in ice pinged on the air as the blonde man brushed off any other inquiries. Especially the ones about how he was taking being single once more. Life was hard enough without romance distracting him. Perhaps that was why he warmed his bed with those he could do without.

 _'Cassandra was a warm body. A life support system for a rack and genitals.'_ He lied to himself for the hundredth time.

William laughed, resting a palm on his long time friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry… I guess you just don't have the smooth moves like I do, Wesker. The ladies love me." Annette rolled her eyes, unlinking her arm from her husband's. "I need to use the ladies room, gentleman and husband-who-will-be-sleeping-on-the-couch."

"Ouch." Wesker grinned as she departed. Annette could always make him grin. She was as catty and as devilish as he. They could have passed for siblings.

William, not being one to take that from his wife, made a gesture of a phone with his hand against the side of his face. "Call me! I want to spend the rest of my life with you!" Some heads turned at that and Annette scooted for the women's restroom so much faster; purse shielding her red face and swearing under her breath. "I love her so much."

"You'd better; I don't think another woman exists who can put up with you." The blonde retorted. "And now we have one thing in common this evening, Will."

Head swiveling, the shorter man blinked. "Oh yeah, and that would be?"

"Not going to be getting laid."

Hissing sharply, William stuffed his hands into his pockets. "We are in the wrong business for that. We should have been spies."

"Indeed…" Albert's gaze set on Ozwell Spencer from across the vast hall with some young woman in tow. Poor girl, she'd probably end up on his staff or as a personal secretary if she kept hanging all over the old man like they were love birds. Subtle gesture given to William, a snort escaped.

"Oh my!" Will lifted a hand to rummage over the scruff that still clung to his youthful face.

"Oh yes, there he is. Probably should go say 'Hello' before I fall over drunk in the back alley out of boredom."

"Classy, Albert." Birkin snickered, and shrugged. "You can go, he and I aren't talking."

"Honeymoon over already?" The blonde asked. "You haven't even been formally promoted yet."

"I know. He hasn't been too fond of my current research in the past couple weeks. Sleep on the couch more because of him than Annette."

"They're conspiring, William. Drive you mad and run away together after you step out in front of a train." It was more truth than joke in a sense, Spencer was working William to death and it was showing. Despite that Ozwell E. Spencer was the president of Umbrella, and one of its founders, Wesker had little respect for the man. He had little respect for mostly everyone, but now you're just getting down to the brass tacks, but Spencer had brought their misgivings upon himself.

"Planning on it next week," William said, smiling as Annette rejoined the pair. A kiss given to his wife, the scientist smiled. A gentle pat on his shoulder signaled Wesker's departure of the duo. "We'll see you after the ceremony."

_'It isn't as though I'm ungrateful for Spencer's generosity. He took me in. After so many years of watching disaster after disaster, I'm almost certain the only place he hasn't had a lapse is as a Catholic.'_

Approaching Ozwell Spencer, Wesker offered up a handshake to the aging man. "Good to see you, Spencer." Albert said, giving a nod to the lady who still seemed to be trying to wrap herself around Spencer tight enough a ring popped on her finger. Red hair, too much eye shadow.

_'Yikes.'_

"Albert! Good to see you showed up. I trust that Hunk spoke to you already?" Spencer's voice seemed to have aged more than his body as the sound hit the air. The worst part about Ozwell Spencer was when he took self-preservation to a level of lunacy that Albert had only seen in horror flicks and confessions from battered wives who put butcher knives in their husband's hearts. The only difference was that Spencer maintained a façade of complete calm. Always. Unnerving, really.

"Yes, we spoke earlier. I assure you tha-"Cut off.

"Dick? Dick Valentine? Hey! Get over here!" Spencer suddenly pried himself free of the little redhead to stride over to an equally aging man.

A young woman followed in suit behind the unknown gentleman. With a black cocktail dress, black pumps, no makeup, and her soft caramel hair was tied back with a single silken ribbon, she did not appear in the same sect as the rest of the women at the party. She seemed normal, almost to the point of being out of place. Her light blue hues met his, and then switched to Spencer.

"Dick, you remember Albert?" Spencer said while walking back to where the blonde stood.

The older man nodded and smiled, shaking Wesker's hand. "Sorta? Glad to see you. It's been some time. I still have the wine you sent for a Christmas gift after my wife passed. Never got a chance to pop a thank you note in the mail." A tug on his coat, and he seemed to remember the girl. "Ah, my daughter Jill, who is as happy as I am to be here." He seemed as though that statement could be true.

She didn't. Boredom was smeared over her pale features until she was introduced, expression shifting to light as air. Stepping forward, she shook Albert's hand. "Nice to meet you." Icy blue eyes met his gray and she quickly retracted the palm. Shy. Her pulse had been drumming against his fingertips at her wrist. Shy and nervous. Beautiful.

"And you as well, Miss Valentine." The blonde replied, face as calm as an undisturbed pond. Her anxious eyes adverted immediately after the velvety tones escaped his lips. He would leave her unscathed for now. The night was still young…"So, are you still living in the area, Mister Valentine?"

"Oh please, call me 'Dick'. Yes, Jill and I are still in the old house. She came home from the Army a few months back to help me fix up the place while she figures out what to do with her life. Pretty decent area around Parker Avenue, with the schools and the church, I can't complain too much."

"I think you already did, Dad. Kids and evangelists drive you crazy…" A clever little comment made by the young woman, and a smile to match such wit wound up on her face.

It was enough to draw the blonde man's lips back in a smirk.

"Don't make your old man look much older, Jill…" The grey haired Valentine said, taking a sip from his bourbon. "Damn kids and their skateboards…"

Ozwell snorted a bit. "I'd turn a garden hose on kids if they came near my porch. 'Course my driveway is two miles long. Hard to reach."

Wesker wouldn't put it past him and the thought of him doing such should have been on company's Christmas card for that year. A soft voice snapped the blonde back to reality, and he blinked. "What?"

Jill smiled a bit. "I asked if you would like to go dance?" Red crept over her face again, as it seemed she had found something that kept her attention in a sea of flattery and money. The music had shifted, mellow sounds of piano and violin joining to fill the air. All around them, couples were traversing towards the hardwood floor.

"Yes, take the girl for a dance." Ozwell offered, giving Wesker a clap on the back. "I need to discuss a few things with Dick." That was that, apparently, his choice made for him.

Not that he hadn't thought about it…

 _'I hate dancing.'_ He inwardly seethed, polishing off a lute of champagne that he snagged from a server wandering past the four. Sigh contained, he offered an arm to the young woman. "Of course." Wesker allowed a faint smile to slip over his lips as she wound a palm against his bicep and followed beside him to the dance floor. Once there, her palm slipped into his as the other found its way near the nape of his neck. The blonde haired man's own free palm found its way to the small of her back and began to lead.

Jill followed in suit perfectly, accompanying him in the dance as they looped around the dance floor. Eye contact was minimal, though she was smiling the entire time. She finally broke the silence after an eternity. "Glad you can dance, I rarely ever get to do it. Not since my cousin was married last spring, anyway. That was cut short by the best man trying to dip me and dropped me instead."

Memories of such occasions caused Wesker to laugh and grin. "That sounds like a great way to end up in the ER."

"I skipped out for the rest of the night with an ice pack and a wine bottle," she replied, blue irises daring to gaze up to his as she spoke. "It was nicer company sitting in my car than trying to fight off a headache and listen to a DJ yell into a mic for another conga line led by Grandma."

"Sounds like you lead an interesting life, Miss Valentine." Shifting their direction to avoid crashing into another pair, he moved with ease.

"Sometimes. Military is a whole lot of boredom. Hurry up and wait…" Jill said, her eyes peering to the couple that they nearly bumped into. It was William and Annette.

_'Oh God…'_

"I love you, Annette! You're as pretty as the day is wide." The slender man said to his wife, who could only sigh at her husband who had apparently hit the bottle since Wesker had left the pair. Despite his drinking, the man could still carry himself to a tune. Maybe he really did have some 'moves'.

Valentine's brows popped, Wesker quickly swept her away as the song carried on. The sounds of "Is that Albert?" "William, shut up!" didn't seem to invoke the desire to return and converse with the Birkins.

"Do you know them?" Jill asked with a bewildered look on her face.

William suddenly decided this was a perfect time for a bit of 'disco fever'. "Look at my Travolta, Annette!" Annette abandoned him, gone from the floor with a huff, hem of her gown between polished nails.

Without missing a beat the blonde dipped her with ease, gray eyes keeping her locked in a mental vault. Her grasp was tight, surprise ripped across her expression. "Who?" He asked, one brow lofting higher than the other.

"Um…" Thoughts realigning, pulse now racing. Golden hind caught, legs unable to navigate with an arrow caught between muscles. "I…"

Pearl teeth exposed briefly from behind his lips, Albert raised her back up with ease. Head tipping, he viewed William shuffling off the floor with one arm reaching and throwing with each step. "Oh… No, I don't know them. He looks like a lunatic."

"At least they're having fun." She offered gently, hands looping back to the nape of his neck.

"You're not? I can dip you again, Miss Valentine. I won't drop you."

Her face burned red as she laughed. "I'm good."

The song ending, the crowd gave the band applause, and the two departed from the floor. Dick and Ozwell had vanished, thus leaving the blonde to keep the girl company until the two old men manifested themselves. Silence hugged the air in a vice's grip until she finally broke the quiet.

"So, you work for Mister Spencer also?" Jill asked, seeming rather interested in making some idle conversation.

"Yes, I knew your mother actually, Miss Valentine. I can't quite place what your father did."

"Oh, my father worked in accounting for Umbrella here. He now investigates fraud. Always working all night, I rarely see him between college classes and fixing up the house."

Albert knew exactly who Dick Valentine was and what he did for Spencer. On paper her story checked out, in reality he was an agent working for the company. Once a thief, he had found himself scooped up by a childhood friend from the clutches of justice. Ozwell. This woman was possibly far more than what she seemed. An avid pupil to her father's trade of subtleties? It was possible. The Valentine family was notorious for their ties to the underworld of modern man.

_'From what I remember there were nine brothers and all of them were killed except for Dick. Spencer grew up loving spy books, puzzles, or some garbage. He wanted to be part of the NSA. He wasn't smart enough, and therefore was rejected from working in that agency. So when Dick got himself hemmed up and made the call to Umbrella, Spencer was happy to have an old friend back to hear stories of the other side of the tracks. Then there was some personal work he wanted done. It had something to do with Trevor…'_

Her story of going to college was also possibly a lie, though Wesker wouldn't fault her for it. Umbrella was built on lies and blood money. "I may have met him in passing, but my job requires too much travel to get to know everyone who works in Denver."

"I see." She replied, head tilting to view Ozwell and Dick returning. Nervous fingers picked at her nails.

"You kids have fun?" Spencer asked, taking a swig from his glass upon approach. The redheaded girl reappeared and latched herself back to Spencer's hip, giving the old man a peck on the cheek. Jill quirked a brow, jaw nearly dropping at such a pair.

_'Yeah, she's far too normal for this bunch.'_

"Loads." Albert nodded to the older Valentine, arms folding over his chest. "Your daughter is a talented dancer."

"She is. I can't keep up with her since I was born with two left feet." Dick smiled at his daughter.

The night drug on, more music and requests to dance from Miss Valentine kept Wesker from being completely bored. Talk shifted from where he grew up to her time in the service to the first time either of them flew in a helicopter. Her aura was almost inviting and yet protective. He could almost breathe around her, forget they were in a den of snakes. Even if it was just for a few minutes.

Finally, the promotion ceremony and awards were given out. The usual ego strokes to make resumes look less than worthless… William made a complete ass of himself, halfway through his speech ranting about his undying love for Annette and his work for Umbrella. Mrs. Birkin spent most of the speech with her head between her palms.

Most of the board slipped off to the cigar lounge, leaving the rest of the guests behind. Once all of the aged men filed into the room, Albert found himself standing next to a silver haired man of equal height. Well dressed, an outline of a holstered weapon hung from the inside of the man's jacket.

"Amazing, Mr. Death graced us with his presence and his face." Graying blue eyes were met by a pair of dead steel wells that belonged to the man.

"Wesker."

Both pitched their stare towards the group taking seats and lighting up cigars.

"How are thinks on Rockfort?"

Idle chitchat always annoyed the seasoned mercenary and his sigh caused the blonde to smirk.

"Same as always: cold, dark, and unforgiving. You should come back." A steel colored eye appraised him. "You're getting fucking fat."

The blonde snorted. "I don't enjoy counting rocks or eating them, Hunk. I think I'll stay in the states." Sly and endlessly snarky, Albert knew one day his luck would run out if he wasn't careful.

Another one of the armed men that made up Spencer's entourage stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. A faint glimmer of silver along his wrist caught Wesker's keen eyes.

_'Handcuffed briefcase? Well, this'll be interesting.'_

"As always it is Valentine who fetches what an army apparently can't." Spencer uttered softly, folders from the briefcase taken in hand as he stood up and seized his place in the center of the room. "I should disband the UBCS." With that said, he dumped the folders on the table. A few glossed photos tumbled free. "Two companies are now scratching their heads as to why the stolen research they had suddenly vanished. Three others lost all of their information to include anything sent to a remote location in a series of horrible fires. It will take them years to rebuild. Why is it that I send one man to do all of this and he gets it done on schedule without giving excuses?"

Silence filled the room. All eyes remained on Spencer as he lit up a cigar. Soft murmuring filled the air, and Albert dared to gaze towards Hunk.

The silver haired man caught the glance, giving a shrug in return.

"With Alexia Ashford's death and more companies surfacing with our work in their claws, I think we should reconsider the proposal of isolating our research facilities to places where we can control more thoroughly."

One of the board members replied from behind a cloud of cigar smoke. "What about that senator? What was his name? The one that wanted to open an investigation after that Pharmacell employee blew the whistle?"

"He's been silenced." Hunk uttered, his soft and graveled voice somehow encompassing the entire room.

Ozwell nodded, gathering up the photographs from the table. "Indeed he has. Many others will be as well very soon." Approaching the fireplace, he dumped the folders into the flames. "This is our opportunity to move everything into established locations where we are in complete control of the very lives of the people who work for us before another comes snooping around."

Everything said after seemed to blur to Albert. Discussions of competitors and how to handle them filled the den, as this was the true nature behind the evening. It was rare for the whole board to meet at once in person for obvious reasons. New plans were spoken of, and a toast was given to their success. With so much money being dumped locally into Raccoon City, it would only be a matter of time before Wesker would have to go there again. His plans would have to wait, it seemed, as everyone sifted out. Spencer had too many guests to keep happy to speak of nitty gritty. Nothing new.

Returning from the den, the men dispersed back into the crowds. Congratulations were extended to William by many as they passed, though Wesker gave him a sour look as he walked by.

"Oh don't be like that. Annette is already spitting fire and wanting to kick me out of the house, Albert."

Any reply would have to wait as Jill quickly made her way over to Wesker and Dick. "Ready to go, Jilly?" Dick asked, finally finishing his drink.

"Almost… There's one last song that they're playing. Can we stay for it?" She glanced over to Wesker, the same smile still on her lips.

Dick was no stranger to that look on his daughter's face. "Oh boy….Jill, I think Mister Wesker has to get going as well. Hate for him to be stuck in traffic, right?"

Saved by the father, though her crushed expression would not do. "Well, how about another time, Jill? Save the last dance for you." An award winning smile, and Albert leaned in to press a kiss on her cheek. He knew he had a few too many at this point. Looser than usual with his words. It was better to be diplomatic…and he couldn't deny that seeing her so infatuated by him was an ego stroke. At least that's what several lutes of champagne and bourbon on the rocks informed him of.

"Alright. I'll hold you to that." She replied, though her cheeks blushed red again, waving goodbye as the father and daughter departed into the crowd to hopefully make it home within an hour.

Single wave returned, a smirk clung to the man's lips until Annette and William showed themselves to bid goodbye for the night. Annette had that woman look, as she seemed to have taken notice of some things. "I didn't know you could dance, Wesker."

A shrug given, the blonde began to undo his tie as they slipped out. "I didn't realize William could dance while smelling like a brewery."

"Wha?"

"Nothing, Will." Albert said quickly, allowing the undone tie to hang from his neck as he opened the door for the pair.

"She looked young." Annette said, fishing in her purse for keys no doubt.

"It was just a dance or two, Annette. She was as bored as I was." Wesker replied, seeming a bit annoyed at such comments. Mrs. Birkin knew how to make him feel like he was under a microscope at times. Following the pair to their car, he was graciously bestowed with more of Annette's concern.

"Very pretty girl, she did seem to have a good time."

"Glad you can see my actions as charitable to say the least." Smile formed on his face, it didn't falter when she frowned.

"She looked very young." Annette repeated, opening the car door.

"Yes mother, I will avoid prison and not sleep with her until her birthday next week. I didn't realize we have veteran child soldiers in America, Annette." Wesker replied, shutting the door for her after she had climbed in.

The statement only caused William to cackle. "She's going to have you on the couch too if you don't shut up."

A sigh escaping her lips, the blonde woman lit up a cigarette and rolled down the car window. "I'm sorry. I thought she just looked young. I didn't realize she was old enough to be enlisted." The woman let out a deep sigh. "We love you, Albert. We worry about you being up here all alone." She said, stare meeting his in a moment of silence between the two.

His smile dropped, sobriety finding him at lightning speed. She may as well have reached into his chest and drug out the blonde's heart. "Come visit us in Raccoon City when you get the chance." The subject was dropped, though her and William's worry was made known. She always knew how to say so much more in a few words than most could put into entire books.

Waving them off, the blonde stood there in the chill of the night for a while. Lighting a cigarette of his own, he would just have to wait for the crowds to leave. Waiting for easier traffic was justification for allowing his thoughts to pass as snow began to drift down from the heavens. _'I worry about me too, Annette.'_ Such a painful realization, though none would know he even thought it as indifference smeared away expression and he made his way through the parking lot to his own car. Along the drive home, his thoughts wandered back to the brunette. It was almost…a tolerable evening.

Pouty lips...

Frosty blue eyes…

Cigarette was thrown out the window at that point. His thoughts roamed elsewhere.

_"Why does my mind wander so badly while driving?" He asked himself aloud, shaking his head. Twisting the dial, the radio flared on with some terrible underground hip hop song about flat screens and fat asses. The dial was immediate twisted backwards and the radio cut off. "That's why..." the blonde grumbled, steel colored eyes rubbed roughly as exhaustion crept over him with each passing hour. So long ago, he doubted she would remember him at all. Rain pelted relentlessly against the windshield as Wesker sped into Denver's city limits. Headlights switched to dim as the two-lane became a four; he tried once more to reach the Valentine residence. Perhaps Dick had forgotten the number, though he was betting on something far worse…_

_Reaching over to the glove compartment, he withdrew the Samurai Edge that lay hidden under a user's manual and a bottle of Pollo: Loaded, safety on, ready to go. Hopefully, he wouldn't need to use it this evening._

_"These violent delights, Have violent ends." -Shakespeare_


	3. Chapter 3

_Over the years following that night, Dick Valentine had proven an ideal asset. Despite Albert's initial reservations, it was how Dick accomplished his tasks that left the twenty some year old man applauding. Acting as a potential investor, he had one of those faces most forget in passing and security rarely were harsh to an old timer who was 'just looking for the board room with so and so'. Breaking in again was easy; Dick had relieved two people of their ID cards along the way and looping security footage wasn't difficult. Those who worked with bioweapons tended to follow Umbrella's playbook, thus it only took a stomach virus to get Dick inside whatever hospital served as a front. The rest is history…except for one event._

_Spencer held a grudge toward a man who had questioned the integrity of Umbrella on more than one occasion on Wall Street with rumors of 'misuse of viral research' and accused the giant of selling to military organizations across the globe. Despite this being completely true, the man had no idea of what exactly had been cooking in the Umbrella oven. His accusations of Smallpox in aerosol form were small potatoes. Spencer wanted him to know that before he died._

_Dick brought the man in to the Estate alive and quite aware. What happened afterwards left the old man shaking and taking half of what Spencer promised without so much as a question where the other half of the payment would be coming from or if he'd even get it._

_"In the future, can I just do what I do best, Spence?" Dick asked in a cracking, hushed tone. Leathered fingers brushing back his gray hair, the man looked rattled._

_Wesker watched from the shadows, arms folded and sunglasses masking his eyes._

_William looked a little less solid, fingers worrying over the manila folder in his hands, straggles of blonde hovering over his freckled face._

_Ozwell was too busy to pay the stares much mind, cigar smoke crawling toward the ceilling from his hovering over the corpse laying on the lab floor. After a moment, he finally spoke. "Put him in the pen with the others. Show Dick where to put them if I need this done again." Ignoring Dick's request, the aging business man stood and strode out without another word._

_Wesker stepped forward, grabbing the dead body's nearest arm and proceeding to drag the body off. Dick was on his heels._

_"Spence is out of his fucking mind. We gotta liquify this thing or bury it at least." The aging Valentine hissed. "Evidence will put us all in the chair!"_

_No reply from Albert, he continued to drag the body. Narrow hallway led to a steel door. Ring of keys, one was found and the door was opened. "Help me." He uttered, and the two heaved the corpse inside. Swiftly, Wesker slammed the door shut. Locked, he stepped away._

_To see what the T-virus could do… Dick would have to face that alone. He would have to see the corpse shift, then move, then rise and walk._

_Valentine saw and he remained at the small three inch thick window, peering into the room for several minutes._

_Returning to the lab, he was worrying his hands. "…There are fifteen in there." He whispered._

_Will looked up to him from his files._

_Wesker did not._

_"Four little girls…"_

_"That man's entire family is in there." William replied in a soft voice._

_Dick sobbed._

_Nothing of that intensity happened at the Estate again, though Wesker wondered what else Mr. Valentine had seen at the hands of Spencer after the fact. Dick was no saint, but Ozwell was out of his fucking mind. The elder of the two remaining Valentines knew just what kind of hell the staff of Umbrella was in, whether they had paid for the ride across Styx to sell their souls away or not. It was genius, really, how Spencer kept all of them silent and plastering fake smiles for the cameras: 'Do it or die. Oh, and your family tree will be uprooted and burned as well.'_

_Either way, Dick had done a bit of work for Wesker after that. He'd resigned to toss his lot in the ones not forcing him to kidnap people. Albert had met up with him in an old dive bar on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. There the conspiracy against the Pharma giant took root. The plan to find an appropriate contact in the government and take down Spencer was laid out. The two never spoke of the event at the Estate. No good would come of revisiting it anyway. The old timer provided Albert with valuable information from various parts of Umbrella both stateside and abroad. These things could have cost Valentine everything, including his only child. However, the chance to stop Spencer lent him courage. Risk was rolling the dice every day that he stepped into an Umbrella facility. The old man had practically worked for free, but nothing they were doing was truly flashy or heroic._

_'Money is the root of all evil', as some broke idiot once said. Albert's intentions were to obtain a great deal of it after toppling Spencer from his throne. It wasn't as though the man lacked compassion for others, but spending years working with the experiments of Umbrella had left him jaded, indifferent, and certainly with a stress disorder. The designated therapist for the researchers said that it would be easier to think of the subjects as things or animals, rather than people. It was less traumatic to work with a rat than a person in biological research. Humans tended to do things such as speak and scream. Words tended to impact the brain and haunt the scientist. Hauntings led scientists to end their lives at that estate. Always a shot to the head, never wanting to come back as the very things they studied for months as some who had chosen softer ends too would wind up walking again as undead._

_Wesker wanted out, badly. Even though he no longer was a scientist, it didn't mean that he was free of dealing with the T-Virus and its victims or Spencer. Umbrella as it was would have to fall. It would be nothing then to install someone like William at the helm under government supervision, though Albert himself simply wished to wash his hands of it all. After all was said and done, he would live as a hermit on an island, drunk out of his mind until he drowned in his own pool during a stupor. Umbrella would be someone else's problem or gone. Maybe when the plan yielded results, he would bail Dick out and drag the Birkin tribe along while the rest of the world clutched its pearls at compromising photos of Umbrella and those she was sleeping with. All would be chewed relentlessly in a media feeding frenzy while the court of public opinion decided who else deserved the guillotine. Those who associated or enabled such horrors, for the sake of crackpot eugenics, being shunned out of polite society would be the cherry on top._

It took a few calls to get through, but Albert managed to get Dick's address from the Denver PD. A voice message left in Iron's office after hours would have to suffice to cover his ass. It would be an easy pitch to step in and help, she would be in a relatively unknown and sleepy town within driving distance. Less for the local cops to deal as nobody would be footing the bill or manpower for protection, and that made them all the more happier to give him the information.

Whatever Dick had landed himself in, it had drawn him into the circle of lifelong criminals. Rumors were not enough to link these men to the name Arvada but the kingpin was a person of interest according to the detective on the line. Not a good situation and keeping people quiet would be the first order of business if that was true. Jill could fall off the face of the earth with no leads. It was a possibility he was painfully aware of. He had been in the shoes once or twice of a garbage man. They were saints compared to Umbrella, but an annoyance for him to deal with now.

Arriving on Parker Avenue, he drove past the Valentine residence, peering at the darkened two story home. No signs of life, aside from the porch light illuminating and an older model motorcycle remained in the driveway. It could have been a boyfriend's ride if the license plate on the back didn't read "Jilly". Two black cars parked on the street in front of the house.

A lone man, dressed in a nice suit, stood at the door smoking what appeared to be a cigar. The cars were equally ink black, and the man at the door didn't seem to have anything in common with a woman like her outside of frequenting a loud nightclub. That was enough for Wesker to make the decision. Parking approximately three houses down, he killed the engine and the lights. "Joy…" Stepping out, the Samurai Edge was stowed on his hip.

Approaching the house, he strode with confidence though adrenaline was beginning to pump through the blonde's veins with each step. The sound of his own heartbeat was thumping the inside of his skull, but he retained his composure. The man at the door was clearly not there to sell a vacuum or tell Miss Valentine the good word of the Lord. _'Shit shit shit..'_

The man lifted his palm as Wesker neared him. "Hey, nobody comes in here, man. Get the fuck out of my sight." The portly man barked, gesturing back to the direction he had arrived from. Coat opened, he revealed what looked like an Uzi in the dimness of the light shed from the lamp above. "I mean it, I'll blow your head off."

_'What a charmer...'_

Two steps taken, one stair skipped and Wesker knocked him hard enough across the face to take the man right off his feet. The yelp of pain and blood pouring from nostrils, he might have broken his nose. Still, the dead blow to the bride was enough pain to knock the mouthy thug out of commission for a moment with tears in his eyes. A swift kick delivered to the side of the head and it was lights out. Hopefully, that sinus cavity would fill with blood and he'd drown in it.

_'Not likely, but miracles happen.'_ Gun relieved, magazine popped and chambered round discharged, Wesker tossed it somewhere in the yard. That much firepower would go through walls. He didn't need that happening inside a house. Pulling his pistol from its resting place, the hammer clicked with ease. Back against the solid wood frame, he allowed his knuckles to deliver a quick and loud knock to the door. Footsteps from the inside of the house and muffled voices caused him to retract his hand and ready the gun. He was outnumbered and definitely would use caution. "Open up! Police!" The blonde barked.

Foresight to stay out of sight paid off. Apparently they'd expected him to stand in front of the door as a hole the size of a melon exploded in a shower of splintered wood and machine gun fire. _'Jesus Christ!'_ If there was ever a moment for prayer now was it as a deafening spray of bullets streaked out into the night. _'Fucking lunatics.'_ He remained still and silent until that moment came to retaliate. Dogs began barking somewhere in the dark. Lights came on in houses nearby. Heart pounding, he dared not to be the one to make a first move. _'Come on fucker…'_ Someone stepped out. It was male, liked diamond studs, and didn't realize it was already dead as the man swung a rifle toward the form pressed along the side of the house.

_**BLAM!** _

An excellent shot but no time to get cocky. These boys were barely men, but more than capable of fighting off someone who dealt with hostage takers and other types of terrorists on a regular basis. Not being one to bang his own drum, Wesker did pride himself on skill in these sorts of situations. Though he was experienced, luck wasn't guaranteed. He was still outnumbered.

The bullet had given the man a third eye. He didn't even get a good look at his attacker before death took him. The next one stepped out and he shared the same fate in much the same fashion aside from brain matter and blood splattering on another thug that exited with him. That goon ducked, though was blinded by the mess. Shooting like a wild man in every direction ended with four bullets in him. Down to seven bullets. That may have been unfavorable. _'Move. Now.'_

Broken glass and a tornado's deed done to the living room greeted Albert as he stepped inside. Cigar smoke, marijuana and the horrid aroma of cheap cologne wafted into his nostrils. In his mind, it was enough of a crime smoking in someone else's house without wrecking the house itself. The glow of the kitchen's light poured from the bottom of the door at the other end of the house. He could hear the voices of whoever was still within the home. Not a peep of a familiar voice, and that only made the situation even more troubling.

Finding his way along the hallway connecting the living room to what appeared to be the downstairs bedroom and bathroom; he slipped quietly into the master bedroom unnoticed. Moving to the wall nearest in the kitchen's direction, Wesker tried to listen in on what was being said. Thank the Lord above Dick was cheap and the walls were somewhat paper thin. A few pictures of a girl who only could have been Jill as she grew up dotted the wall. Cute kid.

"She's not talking about where he's keeping the other stuff. She keeps saying she has no idea what we're talking about." A pause and muffled barks of 'Go check on them' echoed before the conversation picked up again.

Counting footsteps, there were four others besides the one speaking on a cellphone. Sweat pouring down his brow; Wesker didn't even realize how hard his body was working. Flicking on his penlight, the captain scoured the walls of the room for signs of a gun safe. There it was next to the closet on the far wall. A shotgun and a few hunting rifles. Dick wasn't much for firepower and it showed. The shotgun was removed, checked and found to be loaded. Perfect.

"Nah, she's still alive and you can question her yourself. I'll have her at the old packing plant. Same freezer as before. Right boss."

Well, that certainly painted a picture, though the information that Jill was still alive was worth listening. Hustled footsteps and rantings meant that time was running out.

_'Time to finish this.'_ Walking out of the master bedroom, he spotted one of them right off the bat and one shotgun blast put the dark haired man on the ground motionless. Red spilled out from under him to stain the carpets. Blood flecked on the china cabinet across the room glittered on the glass front. Ducking down, back against the wall, he waited for any others to show themselves. Two of them did at once, and both were swiftly peppered by a shotgun blast. Shell discharged, the shotgun was empty.

'Well, shit.' Rising to his feet, Wesker stepped out from the darkness as the last one approached. The goon seemed to have thought he had time to load that pesky berretta of his before facing their attacker. Even empty, that shotgun still had a use. "I'll take that." Buttstroke to the gut, the handgun was lost on the floor and knocked away, leaving the man empty-handed and quite surprised. For his next trick, the blonde dropped the thug like a stack of bricks: heavy wood colliding with him square across the left side of his face. The man screeched in agony, but did not rise after crumbling on the floor.

"Good dog, stay down." Shotgun dropped to the side, the blonde spent a second finding that pesky little handgun. Magazine unloaded, he tucked that away. The rest? Dismantled enough. The slide was tossed behind a couch. "Just awful you got the shit smacked out of you by a pig, isn't it?" Cuffed quickly, the man was left to lay on the floor in a pool of tears and bruised ego.

Weapon trained ahead once more, he approached the kitchen's opening from the dining room. _'You would have thought she would have made a sound by now.'_

Peering in, there was not a soul to be found in the kitchen. Completely empty, it looked like the garbage men had caught Jill just as she was about to pour herself a bowl of cereal. Crunched flakes everywhere, crumbs led toward a door closed on the other side. Glancing to the jug of milk on the counter, he could easily see condensation still formed on it. They hadn't been here long. They may still not have her. Slipping around the mess of flakes on the floor, he shoved the door into the next room open.

Not a damn soul to be seen. Only couches and an old dusty television inhabited the den. The door leading to the stairwell was shut tight too. As Wesker approached, sounds could easily be heard. A struggle on the stairs. "Quit squirming you little bitch! I swear to God I will cut your fucking throat if you bite me again!" No words came in retort, only the unmistakable sounds of a panicking woman grunting and growling as she tried to break free. Feet kicked at the walls of the stairwell, someone was slammed against a wall only to stumble.

She was putting up a fight.

_'Good, he'll be tired.'_

Stepping back, Albert stood within the doorway leading into the kitchen. Hitting the light switch, darkness overtook the den. What little light was given off from the street began to hang upon the stairwell door.

The seconds drug by for hours as this last goon struggled to hang onto his hostage and open the door. _'Fucks sake, if you can't handle a hostage and you're kidnapping her for God knows what, you want to rethink your occupation. Should have consulted Dick for what is easy to steal.'_ If it wasn't for the fact that the idiot had her within his grasp, Wesker would have already ended it. _'So close, don't fuck it up now. Wait for it…'_

The door uneasily swung open, creaking and slamming against the wall as two shadows appeared from the stairwell. "See bitch? I can get you downstairs. Fucking going to make you pay for biting me when we get to the car. Kenny! Start the fucking car, man!"

"LET ME GO!" Jill roared, legs thrashing for something to kick against to put him into a wall again, though received a hard knock to the head for it. Dropped to the floor, panting and disoriented, she froze as she felt something cold against her face.

The brunette man laughed, kicking the door shut. "My boss is going to take his time with you." Grabbing a fistful of hair, he tried to wretch her to her feet. "But just in case that co-" The man stopped short, muzzle whipped toward the outline of a figure no more than ten feet away. The business end of a pistol pointing at him was an eye catcher too. There was nothing to be said at this point, no exchanging of words on Wesker's behalf; still, silent and the crosshairs fixed between the man's eyes. Steel gray eyes softened briefly as he gazed at Jill, seeing a bruised eye and a split lower lip. Tears had stained her cheeks and were beginning to pour down again as it seemed she registered someone had come to her aid.

Albert's stare switched to the degenerate who still held her tight by the hair. He was sweating. Good.

"Hey man, let's talk about this, I'll cut the profit for her fifty –fifty…"

The man's voice drowned into a drone of background noise. Somewhere in the distance the squall of patrol vehicles could be heard fast approaching. The decision had already been made before the man began to speak. No matter how he pleaded, the figure in the doorway did not move and did not speak.

Jill's eyes darted to the knife handle protruding from her attacker's boot. She went for broke, fingers snatching onto the cold solid object before jabbing it right into the side of his thigh.

He let out a roar of agony. Gunfire drowned it out. Between the eyes, the bullet smashed into the man's skull. Dead, the man dropped to the floor next to Jill.

Pistol lowered, Wesker stared at the woman before him. Jill was a mess from head to toe in blood and bruises. Wide blue eyes he remembered filled with laughter now had a thousand yard stare. Holstering his pistol, the blonde stepped closer.

For a moment she gazed at the knife and her hand drenched with sticky black in the dark, then to the corpse. Grip relenting on the handle, the weapon fell from shaking fingers to the floor. A hand shrouding over hers brought her back to reality. "Is it really you?" Jill asked softly, almost hazy. She smiled only for the expression to crack in half as she wept. A hand reaching toward him was caught when she felt faint, and a tight grasp kept her aloft. She let her air out and then sobbed freely. His arms wrapping firmly around her were probably the only comfort that he could possibly offer the woman at that moment.. Her arms, though shaking, snaked around his neck and cinched tightly. He held on until blue and red light strobed through the windows from outside.

Wesker cast a glance to the man on the floor. Bite marks and claw marks riddled up and down arms. "Looks like you had all of this under control."

She exhaled a laugh. "You think so?" Those large blue irises, tinged with reddening whites, stared up at him. "I think I need a refresher. Where's Dad?"

"He's in prison. He sent me to get you."

"You?" Her eyes asked why.

Brows knitting, his frozen expression broke as Wesker spoke. "Your dad doesn't have many friends left. It also would be difficult to track you down to keep my promise if you were kidnapped or worse, my dear." The digits of his right palm swept upwards to brush away some of her brown strands and wipe some of the tears off. That was all it took for her to lose it again, cries and sobs returning tenfold as Jill buried her face against his chest. Right hand finding its way to her back, he tried his best to soothe her, though it was to little avail in a short period of time. They would have to move soon.

"I wanna leave." Jill finally said, tipping back to stare up at him. As he inspected her hairline and found another wound, the possibility of a concussion ran through Albert's mind. It explained why she hadn't been making much noise before. She could have died from that alone.

_'Those morons.'_ Wesker thought angrily, scooping her up into his arms. No shoes to be seen, he didn't care to gather footwear at that point. If anything, he'd hand over his damn credit card and she could buy whatever she needed -anything, just to get out of that house. The young woman's arms were still looped about his neck, face pressed against Albert's chest as he stepped through the kitchen. Past the dining room, into the living room and out the front door, he tipped his head to rest against hers. "Keep your eyes shut." The captain commanded, stepping over the bodies left littering the deck. Seemed he was getting rusty, as there usually wasn't this much mess or this many bodies to count up.

The sounds of police sirens and an ambulance signaled the end of a terrible night. Clutching onto her, he waited as officers passed by to check inside the house. The cold air felt great against his skin, though Jill was shivering terribly. The detective was the first to approach the weary looking Albert, a smile forming on his face. "Captain Wesker, I'm glad you made it out."

Paramedics rushed to the blonde haired man, quickly setting up the gurney for the woman in his arms. The two EMTs began to look Jill over. "She might have a concussion. I tried to keep her from going into shock." A single nod from the olive skinned woman, and he stepped away to join the detective, who eagerly shook his hand. "Detective Stone, glad to finally meet you, Captain. I wish you had called before things had reached this point. You hurt?" He pointed to the blood now drenched over the blonde's front and crewneck white shirt peeking out from beneath the dark blue button down.

"Oh, that's not mine or hers… and I couldn't get ahold of your captain again. I didn't realize the trouble until it was too late. They may have killed her if I had waited any longer." Wesker replied, arms folding over the smear of darkness stained on his uniform's top.

"Our phonelines have been ringing off the hook all week, and these boys don't look like they were fooling around. Dick Valentine made some harsh enemies according to our usual jailhouse residents." To the detective's comment, Wesker had none.

Several officers slipped into the house, and returned within a few minutes with at least one man handcuffed. He looked like someone had smashed a brick against his face. Wesker glanced to the detective, amid the blue and red lights illuminating the light his modest shrug was quite visible. "I left one alive at least."

"We would have been happier if you peppered holes into all of them, honestly. These drug pushers are turning our neighborhoods into a warzone." Detective Stone grumbled, pulling a pipe from his pocket. Lighting it, he puffed absently as the officers began to conduct their initial investigation.

"Do any of you know Dick's ties to them?" Albert asked, almost making Stone jump with an abrupt question. Captain Wesker was quiet…and different than Stone had expected. Silent as the grave until something peaked his curiosity.

"Yes, he was their favorite burglar for boosting cars to move their drugs. He was robbing jewelry stores with them as well. He made a deal with the DA's office about an hour ago to serve his entire sentence in Raccoon City in return for testimony against the ring leader: Jose Arvada. He'll be your problem soon, Captain."

"Oh, I can't wait for the fun that will mean..."

Detective Stone chuckled, shrugging a bit. Reaching up, he scratched absently at the thinning hair near the back of his head. "Alright, I'll call you in the morning, Captain Wesker. I'm going to take a guess that Miss Valentine will be in your care until further notice?"

"Unless there is some sort of objection to it. Dick's late wife was coworker of mine years ago, I think I can keep Jill out of trouble and put Denver in her rear view mirror. Raccoon City is small and isolated; she should be safe and available for any needs in the case."

"Not too worried about her picking up Daddy's trade?" The detective asked.

"No."

_'Yes…'_

He really was concerned about that, though that was none of the detective's business. "However, if it ever did come to that, she's likely to be doing it in Raccoon City and then it's my problem again."

"Huh, you're just looking to take this entire mess off our hands."

"Your men were in route and made the official arrest in the end. I'm sure your department could use some good press. I have no doubt there's going to be something interesting left in those nice Buicks."

Stone looked over his shoulder, a thoughtful sound following. That was it, the scenario offered to make all of this go away without hard feelings.

"Alright, alright. Next time, wait for some uniforms to show up to back you up. I know you S.T.A.R.S. guys are about like Rambo out in the woods, but this is Denver."

Wesker's brows rose. "We're in Denver?" His gaze pitched toward the house now sporting shot out windows and a huge hole in the front door. "I thought this was Greeley."

That elicited a snort and hacking cough from Stone. "Christ, no we're not that much of a hot mess. When you get to it, I will need you to gather her statements about what happened. Fax them to me and possibly bring her back as a witness if we need her against Arvada. He's the big fish we want. I'll call you though if that's the case." Detective Stone said, relighting his pipe once more.

"Avoid getting into another shootout, file some papers, and drive Miss Valentine. You're going to make a great captain one day delegating like that, Detective." Wesker said, gaze tilting to the ambulance. Jill was sitting up, talking to the female paramedic. Back on the deck, the heavy set man sat straight up, finally having woken from the knock out. On his feet, he tried to make a break for it, only to have four officers dog pile him on the lawn.

Stone shifted his stare to the S.T.A.R.S. captain.

Albert could only shrug. "Guess I left two alive."

"You're killing me, Captain." The detective sighed, opening the driver's door of his car. "We'll be in touch. Get back to Raccoon City safely." With that, Stone was gone.

The flash of forensics' cameras was giving him a terrible headache as Albert made his way towards the ambulance. He waited quietly for the medical team to finish their evaluation. Trying to ignore a few flaws in their procedures, he set his focus on the brunette woman who couldn't seem to stop staring at him. It was better than snapping at someone needlessly.

She smiled at him.

He couldn't muster the same gesture. "Will she need to go to the hospital?"

The olive skinned woman twisted about, smiling to him. "No, she'll be fine. The cut on her forehead won't need stitching and there is no concussion, sir. I butterflied it, and if she doesn't feel that she needs to go to the hospital, then she is free to go with you. No rape, so no need for a rape kit."

The last sentence heard just about made the brunette woman vomit on herself. "I'm ready to leave..." Jill stated as she began to move.

Sheepishly, Wesker stepped forward to aid her off of the medical bed, giving her some space to stand after. The cold cement under her feet made Jill give a hop or two. "Wish I had put on some socks."

An officer passing was stopped and asked to head in and retrieve some essentials for the woman. He was off to the house in a few seconds.

Leading her to the car, he unlocked the passenger door, allowing the woman to climb inside. Stepping around to the other side, he started up the engine and kicked the heat to full blast. "I'm going to make one phone call to the jailhouse to let your father know that you're safe and then we'll leave."

"Can I talk to him?" She quickly asked, hands dragging swiftly up and down her forearms to warm them.

"It wouldn't be a good idea right now, Jill. Since he's trying to help the case against the man who sent these morons to capture you, it would probably be best to have no contact. It keeps his story and your story from blurring away from reality." Any thoughts or protests on her behalf were squashed, and a single sad nod indicated her submission. Shutting the door, he made the call. Turned away from the car, he certainly did not see Jill vigorously wiping at her eyes. Everything was still spinning, a blur that she couldn't slow down. His presence itself was still shocking. _'The last time you saw him, you were making a fool of yourself.'_

Sniffing sharply, Jill looked out the window into the night. The flash of cameras and uniformed officers only brought more anxiety. She could have been killed instead of just roughed up. With her head still pounding, she investigated the glove box for Tylenol. She didn't want to go back out in the cold to ask the medics. The bottle of Polo caught her attention immediately, one of her favorites to swipe once upon a time for boyfriends, it reminded her greatly of hunky men doing construction on a beach. Why on a beach? She had no idea. She searched the glove compartment only to come up emptyhanded for a pain killer. Closing it, she sat back and waited. _'Dad really did it this time.'_ More tears, and she tried to keep them wiped off.

Two minutes passed and the captain rejoined her inside of the car. By this time, Jill had his sunglasses on. The bag of her personal belongings went into the back seat before he pulled a large leather jacket to the front, slumping it over Jill's shoulder. "I don't have a blanket, but I assume this will do until we arrive in Raccoon City."

"Sure." She said, slipping the jacket to cover her form. Glancing over to him, she smiled briefly. "Thank you." Sunglasses off, she set them back where she had found them on the dash.

The thought crossed his mind to dive right into asking about Dick's recent behavior and whereabouts, but it was swatted away as he threw the shifter to 'Drive' and pushed on the gas. There would be time for all of that and plenty of time to badger Dick about being so careless. A soft sigh was the most fuss he made, making a right down the street and heading for the freeway. "You're welcome, Jill."

"It's… Albert, right?"

"Mhm." Street light flicked over his features briefly with each light pole passed once the car picked up speed.

"I'm glad you're here." She uttered softly, shifting in the seat to snuggle under the leather jacket. Within ten minutes, she was fast asleep.

A glance to the watch on his wrist, dried black covered the face and part of the silver chain band. His lips pursed at that. He looked over to her, the expression softened. "Me too…" He muttered softly, clicking the radio on.


	4. Chapter 4

The first indication that they were near Raccoon City was when Wesker felt his ears pop. One hand rising to rub the right ear, jaw slacking over and over, the pain vanished in a few minutes. Daylight was creeping over the horizon, and they were still twenty minutes from his house. He was dead tired and hadn't felt this awful in years. Even then, it was due to a stomach virus or some crazy jungle fever from having to hold Spencer's hand to visit a remote lab. It always seemed to be in a rain forest in the middle of a region where everything wanted to eat him or give him Malaria. This was just all around exhaustion. Jill had been a good girl and slept through the entire trip. She'd made it easier for him to unwind after the incident in the house.

Every once in a while, he found himself glancing to her. While her face hadn't changed much, freckles dotted high on her cheekbones. The once long hair was now cut short, which the man couldn't decide if he liked or not. _'Why would it matter if you liked how she looks? Oh that's right. You're alone and judging women is what you do in your free time now. How's that working out?'_

Convinced that Annette had found a way to seat her mentality into his psyche, the inner conversation ceased immediately…with himself.

Flicking his cell phone open, Wesker began to dial the RPD. After the ten second conversation with Forest Speyer, the captain realized he may as well have told S.T.A.R.S. day shift to have a frat party while he was gone. They'd certainly be bouncing off the walls, getting nothing done. "Fuck it…" he mumbled, deciding not to care. Chief Irons would show himself if too much noise was being made, and he could handle it. After all, the chief did host the 'scared straight' program for kids.

Another phone call made, he reduced speed as they came within the limits of the suburbs that Albert now called home. Three rings before the line was picked up.

"William Birkin speaking."

"Hello, Mister Birkin. This is Doctor Richards; I'm calling with your results for 'Foot in Mouth' disease. You needn't worry sir, the results came back negative. You'll continue to speak without thinking."

"Ass." The scientist grumbled on the other end of the line, though did begin to laugh.

A chuckle left Wesker's lips. "How are things in your neck of the woods, Will?"

Stepping over to his computer and pulling up a seat, Birkin gave a sigh. The entire office was flooded with scientists and staff, giving William a feeling of claustrophobia outside of the cubicle. "Doing alright, though Annette and Sherry are fighting on a regular basis because of our terrible parenting. I guess we were supposed to attend a play last night and I did not go because of a breakthrough."

"She isn't going to be little forever, William. You might want to take a vacation or a week off to watch Barney with her. The virus will still be there when you come back. Just throw it in the freezer with the ice cream." Light changing to yellow, Wesker slowed and came to a halt as the color flicked over to red.

"Hah, this is coming from the man who got her addicted to those shows just to torture me. Considering how much time you spend with her, I'm thinking about lying and telling Sherry that you're her dad." Entering his password, William gazed at the loading screen of his computer terminal. The Umbrella logo spun in a circular motion as the information was processed.

"Oh that's not right. I wouldn't sleep with Annette, she might break something." The blonde said with a snicker.

"Yes, she might. So, why are you calling at this hour? Thought the RPD kept you busy until noon with meetings and whatever other garbage that mucus ball Irons can come up with. It has to be six in the morning." Screen not shifting, William delivered a bang against the computer tower. "I need a new computer."

"Sounds like it. Hit it with a hammer. And…I'm actually taking a day off. Had some things come up." Light shifted to green, he hit the gas to head straight on.

"You are taking a day off? Things? That Wisconsin chick came crawling back to you?" Giving the computer a hard shut down, William began to annoyingly long task of rebooting. "Thought she said 'Eh' too much for you."

"She did. That's not why I'm taking the day off." Clicking on his right hand turn signal, Wesker made the intended turn and sped onward through the neighborhood.

"You're going to keep me in suspense, girlfriend?" William said in a mocking tone.

"You remember Dick Valentine?"

"Uh-huh. He was Spencer's buddy until both old farts decided to scare one another. Dick showed his ear hair and Spencer showed him some interesting eating habits. I think Spencer won that contest. What about him?" The computer fired back up, login screen popping up once more. William began to type in his user ID and password.

"Do you remember his daughter?"

"I do, though the only night I ever saw her was from afar." William's tone swung high and sassy with a click of his tongue. "She was dancing with some dashingly handsome man who made my loins long for passionate love. Ooooh, I wonder if he's single now?"

"Nice, William. I'm gay for you too when you're drunk during your promotional speech."

A laugh escaped Birkin's lips, swiveling in his chair a bit. "Annette still hasn't forgiven me for that." Eyes wandering about the lab, Will set his view on two women chatting away by the water cooler.

"He's in jail. Doesn't look like the old man will spend another day of his life walking a free man. Dick called me and asked me to pick her up before his old boss managed to get to her."

"Es no bueno. And did you?" William asked, waiting for the login screen to swap over and allow him in. When it finally did, he quickly set to work opening the program for his lab journal.

"After a long drive, yes." He replied, glancing to the sleeping Valentine in the passenger seat. The woman could sleep through a hurricane more than likely. Jealousy flooded the blonde's thoughts at such a wonderful ability.

"Hrm, that doesn't sound so bad." Closing out the journal, William glanced to a small two by five picture of Sherry taped to his monitor.

"Wouldn't have been if I had arrived there before ten at night without eight or nine gentlemen at the house to collect her." Arriving at last, he swiftly pulled his car into the driveway. Albert's home was a two story house that didn't hold too many personal effects in the front yard. It seemed plain, though maintained to the same standard as every other house around the block. "They weren't happy to see me."

"But you're such a swell guy. They wouldn't know good people if one came up and socked them in the face." Opening another folder on his desktop, William waited for his solitaire game to load.

Engine killed and car door swung wide open, Wesker stepped out of the vehicle, finally able to stretch. The air was still chilled, but it felt great to be standing after ten hours of driving back and forth from Denver. "Some got that lesson, though most had to be dealt with the old fashioned way, including the one who was not too subtle with his intentions of torture."

"Jesus, Albert. How many did you put down?"

"Seven. Eight. I can't remember right now, I'm exhausted." Free arm coming to rest on the roof of his car, he yawned deeply. Tugging the earpiece out of his other ear, the blonde haired man allowed the device to simply hang from its strap on his vest.

"Yeah, I'm usually exhausted after I go on my weekly 'Jack the Ripper' spree too, ya psycho. What were you thinking?" Birkin asked, heading for the door leading out of the office. It was coffee time, again.

"At that time, not a great deal. I owed Dick a favor or two. Wouldn't you agree?" The sun was climbing slowly, though the red dawn was slowly shifting in color. William was well aware of what Dick had done for Albert, considering that even Birkin was throwing his chips in against Spencer.

"I suppose, though I don't go save debt collectors kids that are in trouble when I want out of a debt. I just pay it off, and I know you have the cash. Not like 'what's her face' that you got knocked up wants anything to do with you or your money. House bought, no girlfriend, not even a dog." Pouring a cup of coffee, William took a long swig from the mug.

Albert's brow furrowed lightly at the memory of a child he didn't even know. A boy that was growing up with a bitch of a mother that never let the blonde man know where they were. She kept it that way, and he'd had plenty of issues tracking them down. "I work too much to have a dog. That would be rude to the dog. The man offered me half of whatever he was going to be paid."

"An unknown sum for a woman's life? Hmm, I think I would have wiped my ass with that offer if it was on paper. Maybe not if they were going to pay me in Pez dispensers." William snorted, striding down the hallway back to the office. That cute lab tech who didn't enjoy the restraints of a bra was working today. Giving her a head to toe glance from behind, the chief of research shook his head with a goofy little grin. _'You go girlfriend. Now someone just hit the AC.'_ "Terrible what the world is coming to, old friend." Birkin said at last.

"As though we don't know anything about that, right, William?" Shutting the door, the blonde haired man walked down the driveway to check his mailbox. A few children were playing across the street, and the littlest one, Anne Richards, was yelling furiously at her older sister during their make-believe game. This resulted in more squabbling under the trees of their front yard.

"Nope, wouldn't know a damn thing about that." The scrawny scientist retorted, beginning his daily ritual of card games. G-virus results were still on the way. Somehow he always managed to lose at these games at around thirty-six hours of no sleep. Easy way to tell when it was time to take a break and resume later.

Opening the mailbox, finding nothing, Albert finally sighed. Upon shutting the box's door, he suddenly had a question. "Do you think I'm losing my mind?" He asked, striding back up the driveway.

Leaning back in his chair, William laughed a bit. "As a member of Umbrella, I believe you did what was right by the company to protect individuals of interest that we don't need falling in the wrong hands. You should be given a gold star for today from Uncle Ozwell."

"How about as a friend, William?" His gaze twisted to the car as the passenger door opened. Stepping out, draped in the leather jacket with a pair of aviators that definitely did not fit her facial structure, Jill still seemed only half awake. Brows popped, he pointed to the front door. No need to tell her twice, she was heading for it.

Realizing he hadn't given her keys was about the time he noticed she somehow got in anyway. "What the… Did she just pick my front door lock?" He quietly asked, no intentions of said question receiving a real answer. Of course she'd picked the lock with a thief's quiet hand.

_'Maybe this was a mistake.'_

_'You think?'_

"If you really want my opinion as a friend, then make dinner for Annette, Sherry, this new roommate of yours and myself tonight. Feel free to make something for you too. Hate to see you starving yourself to maintain your figure."

"Fine. How does chicken sound?" Albert asked as he approached the front door.

"Chicken sounds like bawk bawk bawk, but whatever floats your boat. I suppose they could bark or moo. I get confused sometimes myself." It was growing clearer that William was reaching his thirty-six hour mark, as sarcasm seemed to be the only language in which he spoke. Dropping the humor before Albert hung up, he laughed. "We'll be there around six. Annette and I are leaving within the hour to get some rest."

"See you then." With that, he hung up. Not only was he exhausted, he had an infamous headache from William twisting everything said into a joke. It seemed to happen every Tuesday. The digits of his right palm roughly drug against his eyes and to the temple before dropping. 'Now where did she go?' Heading toward the hallway on the far side of the spacious living room, away from the front door, he peeked into his own room first. Not there.

The faint sound of flushing heard, water ran, and then she emerged from the bathroom. With how she appeared, he only could imagine that they both looked like warmed over death. Sunglasses propped atop her head, a dark circle was forming under her unbruised eye. The split lower lip was showing signs of bruising around it. "Where can I sleep?" Jill finally asked, rubbing her face vigorously.

 _'It isn't worth conflict now, you're exhausted. Specify no picking locks later.'_ He took his own bribe, procrastinating.

"Just take my bedroom. I'll sleep on the sofa this afternoon. Master bathroom has towels in the cabinet if you decide to shower. We'll have some familiar faces over for dinner; if you don't mind some social interaction after…what probably was the most terrifying night of your life." Lips forming into a thin line after, the man wanted to allow his head to sink between his shoulders. Shit, he probably shouldn't have let William talk him into dinner. Another flurry of tears from the woman wouldn't bode well with Annette for him. He probably would just start crying too.

"Sounds good, I might bow out early and sleep more if you don't mind. Not feeling incredibly social." She replied, hoarse as can be.

"I don't blame you. These folks are weird, just telling you now. I'd want to hide out from them too, but they're chosen family." He said with a smirk in the dry humor, seeming to warm up to her as the moments passed. "Its fine, Jill. Take the time you need. Right now, I need sleep."

Nodding, she stepped closer to him. Arms slipping about him, she gave the blonde haired man a gentle hug before tottering off to the bedroom for some much needed sleep.

He sighed deeply, finding his way over to the leather sofa. "What a fucked up way to start a week." Flopping on it, face down, he did not wish to budge an inch. Kicking off his boots was too much effort; removing his gun was on the same page as the boots. In about five minutes, he was out like a light. Motionless, breathing steadily, Albert had earned a decent rest undisturbed.

Meanwhile, in the bedroom, Jill was making herself comfortable. For the bachelor pad, it was very clean and tidy. The bedroom was much the same, though there were books stacked in any available shelf or case that lined one wall. The farthest wall that trailed along the king sized bed into the master bathroom was completely dotted with water color pictures set in wooden frames. Each was in various shades of blue and all depicted a fat raccoon getting into various kinds of trouble. Jill Valentine wasn't much for art, but these were adorable. A few clothes were on the floor, which she put into the hamper next to the bathroom's door. The sunglasses, she gently set on the nightstand next to the bed, and the leather jacket was hung on the back of the bedroom door. Fingers trailing over the RPD identification badge on the stand, the emotionless face of Albert Wesker stared back at her in ink. A smile crept over her lips, ease washing over her shoulders.

Her t-shirt was ruined, tossed off and put in the hamper as well. Jeans kicked off, she examined the large scrape that had already scabbed over along her left leg. It hurt so friggin' bad. Teeth grit, she plucked a few fibers of torn jean out of it. Examining her lime green painted toenails, she frowned at the color being chipped from her left big toe, which was dirty, along with the rest of her feet from walking barefooted.

_'Things could have been worse. I should try to be a decent guest and earn my keep while this mess is sorted out.'_

Fatigue wafting over her once more, Miss Valentine crawled under the comforter and between the sheets. Eyes closing and opening repeatedly, she sighed. The scent of him was all around, and she did her best to ignore it until the sandman came.

Wesker first woke around four 'o clock, though it took about half an hour before he climbed off the couch. Sore, still fighting off sleep, he made for the guest bathroom. Light switch clicked on, Albert took a glance at his appearance. Stubble had already begun to show along his jaw line and chin. No time to shave, he exited only to check on the young lady occupying his bed. Knocked out still, the blonde haired man gathered a black shirt, jeans and clean socks in the quietest form possible. _'I'll give her another half hour.'_

The hot water in the shower felt excellent, pelting away the wear and tear from the night before in warmth. Hair slicked back after a good rinse, he spat away some of the water trying to catch between his lips. Water clinging to wheat colored lashes was wiped away by a bruised knuckle. Gray eyes finally opening, Albert inwardly sighed. "What now?" he asked the walls. They had no answer for him, only the sound of running water filling the air. Expression stiff as stone, the water was cut off and the man hastily dried off and changed.

Once out of the bathroom, the sounds of water running elsewhere registered. Good, she was up again and cleani- "Shit, I forgot her bag." Albert muttered, heading for the car. Bag in tow, he returned to the door of his bedroom, opening it only to toss it on the bed. It wouldn't be enough for her staying but for now what she had would suffice. This was shaping out to be yet another thing piled on his plate aside from business as usual. Helping her wouldn't be a burden at least. She was clearly independent.

 _'She might not end up leaving if you play your cards right…'_ His expression dropped at such a thought. "Who the fuck said that? Am I really that fucking needy right now?" He growled at himself before stalking off into the kitchen.

The 'Birkin Tribe' hadn't arrived yet. Dinner was staying warm in the oven and the table was set. Jill had decided to make an appearance after a long shower. Brow quirked, Wesker realized her presence after the last of the silverware was placed. "There you are. Feeling better?"

"A bit." She started, offering a faint smile upon stepping into the dining room. One hand reached back, itching absently at the tag, the woman's gaze set upon him. "I…" Seemed the cat had her tongue just before the doorbell rang. That was enough to cause a grin to play across his lips as Albert stepped past her to answer it. The sound of greetings at the front door had Jill slinking after.

Annette was in the middle of giving Albert a hug, mentioning something about how long it had been since they had gotten together. William stepped past all of them to head for the kitchen with two bottles of wine within his grasp. A kind nod given to Jill, he kept walking without so much as a word.

 _'He probably noticed the lovely shiner on my eye. I look like a poster child for battered women.'_ Jill thought miserably, still hovering nearby.

Sherry happily ran inside, jumping around in a red dress with matching ties in her hair. It was the little girl who broke the ice and actually spoke to Jill. Little hand pointed up, she gasped at the woman. "You hit your head!" The littlest Birkin chirped, dashing up to grab onto Jill's hand. "My daddy is a doctor. He'll fix you." She said in a matter of fact tone, dragging the woman along with her as the crusade to find Daddy began. "DADDY!"

"Yes, Sherry?" William replied, finding himself face to face with his daughter with Jill in her custody between little fingers. "What's wrong?"

"She hit her head! You have to help her!" The urgency of the child's tone caused a smile to break out on Jill's face. This little one didn't appear to be held back by the age old 'Don't talk to strangers' at all. No, let's drag them to Dad and have him fix them up.

Laughing, William scooped up his daughter. "I'm sorry; she's just like her mother."

"I heard that." A feminine voice retorted, and Annette stepped into view. Striding over to Sherry and Will, she placed a little kiss on their daughter's cheek. "I resemble it, but you're still sleeping on the couch for that."

To that remark, William made a mock hiss sound of pain. "You cut me deep, Annette." The slender man replied, brows popped a few quick times at his mate. An eye roll was her reply, along with a changing of the subject as to where the wine glasses were. He won.

Arms folded, Jill didn't really know what to say. She had this suspicion that she was huddling, though couldn't be sure. She recognized the pair vaguely, more so Annette than Will.

Annette broke the silence at last after pouring herself a glass of wine. "Well, Jill it's nice to finally meet face to face. A pity we didn't get to introduce ourselves years ago. Between that guy being broody and my husband's favorite sport being publicly humiliating me by having a stroke on the dance floor, it was a long night. I'm Annette Birkin." She offered a wave and a smile before taking a sip from her glass.

The shaggy haired man next to Annette squinted hard behind his wine glass. "I'm William Birkin, and I resent what I have been accused of. It's nice to meet you, Jill."

Valentine looked up to the tall blonde next to her.

Wesker could only shrug. "I told you they were weird."

To that Annette deadpanned. "Who are you calling weird? Sigmund Freud would have had a field day with you." Wine spat by William, Mrs. Birkin offered a napkin over to him while her husband cackled like a hyena. "Have you talked to your father yet, Jill?"

"No, I haven't. It's a lot to process right now anyway."

"Denver Police will call when Dick is allowed another phone call. They moved him into solitary confinement for his own protection."

William nodded, mopping wine off his jawline. "Well, you're in the company of friends here. Your father's work before he quit Umbrella was very important. He's a good friend of Spencer and you will get a fresh start here. No better place to stay temporarily either; I hear that your roommate runs part of the police force." A glance to Wesker, then back to Miss Valentine. "Trust me; you're not going to fall between the cracks in Raccoon City. You're safe here."

Annette nodded in turn, sipping on her glass of red wine.

It was a lot to digest in a few seconds, and the warm arm slipping about her shoulders from Wesker was comforting as well. Nodding, she forced a smile. "Thank you."

The next thing would be tears, so it was time to change the subject. "Anyway, food is ready if we want to eat." Albert said, dropping his arm from about Jill's shoulders abruptly. He almost chided himself for touching her.

Following the others, a sigh of relief escaped Jill's lips, though Sherry was trying to get her attention now.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Jill." The woman replied, smiling broadly to the Birkin's daughter.

"Hi! I'm Sherry." No time for proper social exchanges, as Sherry already darted for her seat at the table.

Dinner was a nice distraction from her own thoughts. The three of them could have passed for siblings the way they relentlessly teased one another.

After dinner, the two men went out onto the back porch for a cigarette and a chat. This left Annette and Jill to talk. Sherry wore herself out from running around and was sound asleep on the loveseat across from them.

"So, how long have you been out of the service now?" Mrs. Birkin suddenly asked, taking a swig from her wine glass.

Jill pitched her gaze to the ceiling as she thought about it. "A few years now. My last day was a couple months before that party happened."

The blonde haired woman nodded, gaze shifted to the sliding glass doors that led out back. "I remember that night. You kept us both entertained for hours. Constantly asking him to go dance with you." Her expression softened. "I can't remember another time I saw him smile that much: just dumped and had a cute local dragging him to the dance floor. You were a godsend to that poor man's ego."

"I didn't know he'd just been dumped. That's funny. I hadn't thought about that night in a long time." Her stare drifting to the mantle over the fireplace, a painting greeted the woman's eyes. A tree line bathed in fog. "I was shocked when I realized it was him holding that gun."

Annette gave Jill a look, frowning. "I'm glad he got to you in time. It must have been a horrible night. I do want to say if the space here becomes too small for you both, you're more than welcome to the spare bedroom in our house. Will and I are barely home. Sherry is usually staying with relatives in the city while we work. If that's too weird for you I can ask at work if anyone knows of properties available for rent."

"I appreciate it. I would like to find a place of my own. Get back on my feet." Jill replied, finally taking a drink from her wine glass. The red wine was a bit bitter, but warm against the tongue. "His home is beautiful. Though I feel a bit like a burden already. Daughter of an old friend… I just don't want to be in the way, you know?"

"I understand and I doubt he sees it that way. Albert is very hard to read and gives off a callous impression at times. Other times he gives a blank impression. I don't know which is worse. He's been alone and overworked for a while, so he may just be neglecting his manners." Annette shifted her gaze to the cinnamon candle resting on the squatting coffee table. "Still…"

"Still…what?" Jill's curiosity was peaked, a blue hued eye wandering its gaze through the blinds towards the taller blonde man. His gaze was fixed on William, an eye roll soon following the muffle of whatever Birkin had uttered.

Whatever Annette truly had on her mind, she kept it to herself. A waving of a dismissive palm and she smiled behind her glass of wine. "Nothing, ask me again someday."

Outside, Wesker shifted closer to the house and out of the wind to light a cigarette.

"So...who shamelessly threw themselves at the other first?"

The blonde's exhale put out the lighter. "For fuck's sake, Will." Wesker grumbled, flicking sparks until a flame took again and he lit up. "We've been here for a grand total of ten hours. Eight of those I spent sleeping, the other two I spent making dinner for you so a fair breeze won't blow you over. Do I look like a vole to you?"

"Oh? From our conversation earlier today, I thought you might be swooping that way. Thought you may have given the knight in shining armor routine a try when you were asking me if you sounded crazy." He did his best to ignore the jab to his ribs.

"Swooping is bad." Albert replied, taking another sip.

"Very bad, though to answer your question," turning to face the blonde man, "Not really. I am curious as to why we need her but I'm all ears for it."

"Well, looking out for Spencer's ring of 'friends' is still part of my job. Couldn't have him suspecting that I don't give to damn about what happens to him, the board, or those who have ties that are hanging by a thread. Would raise questions about what I am doing. If Arvada is really involved and had gotten ahold of her, Dick would have talked." Albert gazed inside, noticing the two women were talking as well. _'That cannot be good.'_

"I never met him but you're probably right. Don't forget that you get to inform Spencer about your circus last night."

"Already done, actually… Irons handled that. I figured that the slob needed another excuse to show he's still useful. Maybe he'll get a little incentive for his taxidermy obsession by running the errand."

"I just ate, please save the Chief Irons discussions for another time."

"Hah, but this how we can cow the old man along. Dick is serving what time he has to in this town. He'll be a good boy as long as she is in my hands. It won't be hard to take what we need for your ascension with him only a stone's throw away. It isn't as though I don't have the authority to move Mister Valentine to the RPD itself from the jailhouse for 'questioning'. Just schedule a little field trip at that point."

William's gaze narrowed, all of the pieces falling into place. "You want to use her too, don't you?"

"From the moment she was introduced to me as his daughter. She has experience. God, last night she stabbed the fucker to distract him long enough for me to get a shot off. That takes some nerve. Yes, she is an ace I've kept in my sleeve if something ever happened to Dick."

"Right, okay. I'm going to let you do what you do best." The scientist replied. "Sneaky shit is not my thing."

"It also knits into our cover of protecting the 'Umbrella Family.'"

William's face screwed up. "God, Albert. I already wanted to puke before your corporate cohesive pitch. Every time I hear 'family' during a meeting I want to put my fountain pen through my eye. Fine, we'll help. She can sit on the floor with Sherry at our house sometimes watching that horrible show."

Wesker couldn't keep himself from a malicious little grin. "But Barney is so educational." His voice was laced with innocence but William would probably never forgive him for letting Sherry watch it when she was very young.

"So is the class I give at the University. People still pass out halfway through it, and I don't have to buy thirty of those stupid stuffed animals that are still at my house." William grumbled, finishing the wine and turning for the door. Stopping short, he tipped his head to look back at his friend. "Don't you fucking dare fall in love with her." It was a shock, cold water and a slap to the face all at once the way the man's expression and tone turned grave in a heartbeat.

Albert tilted his head, evaluating his partner in crime's expression. "Will…" He began, snickering.

Empty pale eyes looked up to him, brows slowly raising as Birkin waited for an answer.

Wesker's expression dropped flat."…Shut up. Of course I'm not going to do that. She'll play along like everyone else. Easily disposable, just like Dick after all is done. No loose ends."

William couldn't erase the skepticism from his face. "No, I know that you would go through with it, but we have been friends for half of our lives. I just think that she could be dangerous in the wrong situation."

Albert shot him a sour look before leading the way back indoors. "Your concern is noted and don't insult me."

Hands up, the shorter man submitted. "Okay, I'm dropping this. I'll still have a pint of ice cream and a box of tissues waiting for you, my favorite assassin." William grinned.

Annette and Jill were laughing about something, and it caused Sherry to stir from her slumber. The two men entered and joined them in the living room. Joining in on the conversation, the four almost lost track of time. The topic? William's first trip to South America that nearly ended an international crisis along with the shaggy haired man coming down with a rare jungle fever. Despite both matters being dire at their time, some funny little bits sprang up in the discussion.

It wasn't long before the Birkins were gone. Locking the door behind him after the family left, the man felt annoyed by just what William was implying, yet not a sliver of that to be found on his face as Wesker rounded the corner into the kitchen. "Oh, I was going to take care of those, Jill." Referring to the filled sink and dishes half done.

"I'll be done in a bit." The woman said softly, smiling as she rinsed one plate off and set it in the drying rack. Next was a wine glass, and so on. "You cooked. I clean."

He didn't budge, leaning against the counter near her. Finishing the glass of bourbon, Albert handed it over to her for cleaning as well. "The gesture is appreciated."

"What did you do to your hand?" Wet fingers reached, grasping his hand and turning it over without a second thought. "Oh my God, did you break a knuckle?" His glass was forgotten, dunked right into the soapy water.

"Not this time. It's fine. Don't…"

Her thumb traced near where purple and blue peppered his skin, though never touched it. She was at a loss for words, eyes burning at their rims. A memory of him flashed: light dividing his face down the front. The sound of the gunshot followed. Head tipping up, blue irises fixed heir stare on his face.

Her bruises were bare to his sight and when she inhaled sharply for air, his hand rolled back and clutched hers.

Silence filled the kitchen as they stood there.

She could feel her heart threatening to bludgeon her ribcage to dust as her free hand went to rest on the front of his shirt. Feeling almost light headed, Jill wasn't entirely sure how much longer she could stand there. Anxiety was threatening to choke the air out of her.

Just as he was about to say something, the phone rang. "Give me a minute to deal with that." Clearing his throat, he let go and slipped away to find his phone. Nearly midnight… Who would even be calling?

Jill bowed her head, a deep and relieved sigh escaping her lips as he exited the room. The tension between her shoulder blades felt like a knife in her back. Phantoms of the night before clawed at the edge of her mind. _'Don't. Just don't even go there. Get your head screwed on straight.'_

Once done with cleaning the dishes, she saw that he was still on the phone at the end of the hallway. Wandering into the living room, she tried to watch television. Something to distract her. Memories of a man dragging her down the stairs by her hair intruded every few minutes. She could almost feel his nails digging in her scalp still, an echo of it burning there.

"Don't worry too much, Miss Wong. He'll come back around… I'm sure you'll figure all of that out." Phone off, Wesker slipped back into the living room.

Jill was out like a light, curled up under a blanket she'd found. Eyes wandering to the television, he could see why. "Infomercials will do the trick after ten." Remote clicking the tube off, he watched her for a few moments. Bloodied, beaten, bruised and still strong enough to endure Annette and William for an evening. _'What a trooper.'_

Stepping into his bedroom, the blonde stripped and crawled into his bed. Her perfume lingered still. Switching to the other side of the bed, he did his best to ignore it and try to fall asleep. He eventually had to toss it off the bed to avoid the fragrance of jasmine.


	5. Chapter 5

The alarm buzzed at six 'o clock in the darkened room. Small traces of light littered the floor as the sun was cresting over the horizon outside. Someone stirred beneath the comforter, and a hand jetted out to silence the clock. Blankets tossed back, one very drowsy Albert Wesker shifted to sit on the edge. Rigorously rubbing away the sleep clinging still, he rose and headed for the bathroom. Almost tripping over the pillow he'd tossed the night before, it was flung back on the bed. Usual ritual of shower and shave, he was done in no time. At one point during the night, he remembered the need to wash her clothing or so it seemed. Could have been sleep organizing again, he didn't really recall or care. A quick trip to the washroom and her clothing was retrieved. They had to be at the PD before eight in order to get an early start on handling her affairs.

Retreating to his walk in closet after tossing Jill's clothing onto the bed, the blonde quickly began to dress. The man only stepped out after he was down to just tightening his belt.

Opening the door to his bedroom, he was blessed with the sight of Jill two seconds from knocking. She jumped, one hand reaching to cover her heart. "I was just about to…"

"Knock? Here are your clothes. Don't take too long in the bathroom, we're going to the police station not the Met Gala. We need to get there soon so no more than thirty minutes."

Her expression filled with a feigned scowl before it twitched into a small smirk. "I promise I won't take long."

He was left to his own devices as the sound of the shower came on. The desire to cringe at his comment was almost beyond bearable. _'Why are you so awkward, Al?'_ He had another headache on top of that. He sighed to himself, marching to the kitchen. Time for coffee, and to start hunting through the ads for finding a place for the girl to live. His residence was…

_'Completely out of the question. A safe house for her under Annette's name would make more sense in case someone came looking for her again.'_

Fifteen minutes later she emerged dressed and a brief stretch revealing a flat stomach peeking beneath a white shirt. She didn't notice the lightly colored brow raised on his part before his stare reverted to the fine print of his paper. "I need to get the rest of my clothes." The brunette commented, arms folding behind her head.

Albert cast a glance up to her from the newspaper, one brow lifting once more. A shrug given, he folded the paper. "We'll deal with that this weekend."

"Fine by me. I'm just glad to be away from that house right now." Fumbling through the cabinet, she winced as two mugs clanked against one another.

"Any nightmares?" He asked. It was almost out of his normal character. Jill nodded, half and half added to a mug glossed in onyx. "No, I'm just grateful to have my throat still. I owe you a lot." A pause as she took a sip from the mug, the heated liquid nipping at her lips. "Thank you."

"My pleasure, Miss Valentine." He sounded almost tired as he dropped the paper on the table. A heavy sigh and his wire rimmed glasses were dropped on top.

She still seemed to have a great deal on her mind, silence filling the air between them before they left.

Heading for the front door, he could almost feel the woman right on his heels. Allowing her passage, he sidestepped and locked the door as they departed. Once in the car, she remained quiet as the town whipped by. Bakeries, the newspaper, all sorts of shops and dining for Jill to explore eventually. A new home and a fresh start would have been exciting under normal circumstances.

Albert didn't really bother to strike up any conversation. The usual drone on the weather station for showers later in the afternoon had his attention.

Two miles from the RPD she finally spoke. "Dad always used to say that 'we're going to Wal-mart, not the Oscars'. Mom used to drive him nuts by taking too long in the bathroom."

The blonde nodded once, a brief smile at the parallel from her old life. "I know you fear for him." The sun reflected harshly from the rim of his sunglasses as the car made a sharp turn left.

"I just hope we can be something of a family still after all is said and done."

Arriving at the RPD, the pair made their way past several uniforms who were occupying the front lobby. A few offered greetings to the captain and a look to the woman following him. _'I have to look like a hot mess…'_ Her gaze set forward, she marched on behind Wesker. He was a perfect shield to hide behind.

A rather burly looking man approached wearing a red vest over a tight white shirt. "Hey Captain, have you seen Brad?" Stopping short, he tossed a glance to Jill before his eyes returned to Wesker.

"No Barry, I haven't. You might want to check the helipad." The reply was brief and Albert continued moving without so much as pausing. Whatever the bearded man had to say, it was muted out once the door swung open to the S.T.A.R.S. office.

Several members of the team were scattered throughout the room; busily working, chatting it up… or arm wrestling in Chris and Forest's case.

"Well, I'm glad to see the zoo survived without me." The only thing he said, but the sound of Wesker's voice seemed to slice right through the room and grab everyone's attention. "Get back to work, folks. Forest, please find Brad and top off the helicopters in case we're lifting off tonight. Tell Enrico to go ahead and brief the crew slotted." With that, Wesker somehow navigated to his desk for something. Everyone in the way quickly cleared out. Seemed that he was almost feared in this room… Top dog in a box of puppies.

Albert didn't need to tell the lanky man twice, as the arm wrestling match was over once Forest's attention was drug from Chris to the team's leader. Sighing, the long haired Forest Speyer grabbed his jacket and made for the door, Redfield taunting him the entire way out. His only reply was shooting Chris the finger.

A girl dressed in white and green poked her head in from the hallway. "Captain, Chief Irons wants to see you."

 _'Lovely! I wonder if he wants to get a case of the ass with me today.'_ The blonde thought angrily, plucking a file from the desk. A nod given to the girl, he replied, "Tell him that I will be there in two minutes." File placed in front of Chris, Wesker's gaze fell upon the brunette. "Chris, take her statement, leave it on my desk."

Half paying attention, Chris' head swiveled to meet Captain Wesker's gaze. "Who?"

"Her!" Pointing to Jill, it was becoming clear that this might end up being a bad day for the S.T.A.R.S. team. Without another word, the captain exited the room. All was silent, for about five seconds.

"Way to be on your 'A' game, Chris! I thought we would be able to go one day without Captain Wesker throwing a stapler at you." A bandana wearing man in the back said. Joseph Frost. The entire room burst into laughter afterwards, excluding Jill and Chris.

"Yeah, Ed go ahead and take down the one day that we accumulated for 'Days gone without an incident'." The baritone voiced man in the far corner said, chuckling intensely. Kenneth Sullivan is who Jill would know him as one day.

"Aww! It looked so nice on our wall." The man who must have been 'Ed' said.

Seeming tired of the taunting, Chris climbed up from his seat. "Come on, we'll do this in the questioning room." He offered a kind smile to the woman, gesturing to the door. More jokes made at the expense of Chris were uttered, though ignored.

"Alright, right behind you." She replied, following after the taller man out.

In Chief Irons' office, Wesker was pondering bashing his skull against the statue situated within the ridiculous looking room.

"…And whose permission did you have to take this upon yourself? The last thing I need in the papers is that the man who I put as leader of S.T.A.R.S. two years ago has tendencies to run the countryside butchering mobsters!"

_'Completely incorrect…'_

"Another thing! Detective Stone said that you maimed the two that lived. For fuck's sake! What am I going to do when the press gets their fingers in this?"

Arms folded, Wesker finally spoke. "It would be rather difficult for me to fill the last slot within my team if the recruit I desired to have vanished without a trace."

"…What?"

"You heard me. None of my team can crack a simple combination lock, let alone a vault or even a door if needed. She's got military experience so I can expect her to show up on time in the right uniform and do the work. Her skills are an asset that I want after all of the losses I've sustained. She was taught by the best and is the best after her father finishes rotting in jail."

The chief finally sat down, huffing a bit. "You expect me to believe that you really want to hire that criminal's daughter because they taught her the tricks of the trade? We could hire a locksmith with a clean record if you want someone that can bust into a vault or locked down compound. You are expecting a Waco massacre?"

Albert's stare shifted, a smirk polishing his lips at the large man's expression. "Yes, I do, to answer both of your questions. That cult loitering in the mountains is making the mayor nervous. She gives us the advantage and this keeps her from ending up becoming someone we chase in the end." He let that sink in for all of five seconds. "It's your call, I suppose if you're going to fuss over crimes that haven't even been committed by her hands..."

"I suppose I can see where you're coming from." Irons said with a sigh. "Next time, just let me know and we'll follow the proper procedure for handling this."

_'Proper procedure? This man is the only officer to ever commit a hate crime in RPD's history.'_

To keep himself from just causing Brian Irons' face to collapse in from trauma due to a paperweight being slammed against the man's skull repeatedly; Wesker cleared his throat, nodded and left the office. There was nothing to be said at that point. Bastard thought he had a clue how to do anything brighter than wipe his ass, and he honestly didn't. Wesker had built this branch of S.T.A.R.S., not Irons. Marching down the hallway, the captain nearly knocked a traffic cop over who was carrying a few boxes.

In the interrogation room, Chris sat at one end of the table as Jill sat at the other. Thumbing through the pages, he finally glanced up to her. She was absently biting at her thumbnail, a shiner visible in the single light of the room hovering its glare over the table. "So, what happened to you?"

"I was attacked by men who were trying to frame my father at my house in Denver. It's on Parker Avenue…"

"So, why are we taking your statement? Shouldn't this have been done in Denver?"

To that question, Jill just shrugged. She really had no clue. "I'm not the police officer here."

Sighing, Chris began to fill out the sheet. "Okay, so why would these men frame your father?"

"Because he stole things for them." She had to admit it to herself finally. Dick hadn't stuck to the straight and narrow. It hurt, like a hot iron on skin.

"Such as?"

"I'm not sure. Anything they wanted and could pay for, I guess."

"Why frame him?"

"They killed some people… I heard them boasting about it in the kitchen after I barricaded myself in my bedroom. Probably didn't want to pay him either."

Redfield quickly jotted down everything that she said, nodding. "Anything else? Miss…?"

"Valentine. Jill Valentine."

Sitting back, Chris blinked. "Wait wait.. Valentine? Who's your dad?"

"Dick Valentine, why?"

"Wow, he's been all over the news. I mean, he's known for being…pretty good at what he does." The brunette man said distantly. "Sorry to hear that happened to you." Subject dismissed, though it seemed she felt a bit better with someone who was sympathetic. "I need to know how you ended up with the cut and bruise."

"Short brunette man… His name was Cameron I think. Don't know a last name, was too busy trying to avoid having my throat slit. He was shot dead."

"Ah, I heard a little about what Captain Wesker did." Leaning against the table, Chris wrote more on the paper before him.

To that comment, her brows lifted. "What's that supposed to mean?" The expression written on Jill's face was of disgust and confusion.

"Well, he… Oh." Redfield's stare met hers and he instantly backed down. "There are a lot of rumors flying about the PD about what Wesker did."

"He saved my life."

"Why would he drop everything and drive all the way to Denver to handle this? That's what nobody has figured out."

"Because she is a potential recruit. Is that a problem, Chris?" The captain's icy voice rang out in Jill's defense. He had entered the room silent as death, which always made Chris uneasy. Leaning against the wall near the door, arms folded over his broad chest, Captain Wesker had been watching them for a while. The man seemed completely at ease aside from his frosty expression. The usual sunglasses perched on top of his head; steel eyes were burning a hole in Chris' head. "Come on, Jill. That's all you needed to tell him."

Rising from her seat, the woman nodded and followed the captain out of the room as soon as the door swung open. Dumbfounded, she said nothing else. Had he just lied for her or was that true? _'Oh the irony… Being a cop.'_

"Fax that statement to the Denver PD, Chris. I'm gone for the rest of the day." With that, Wesker and Jill were gone, the door slammed as the pair exited. Sometimes, Chris swore that the captain really hated him deep down. Returning to the office, Redfield couldn't keep himself from feeling like a bit of an ass for offending her. Frankly, he thought it was pretty amazing that the captain would step out of the system's box to protect someone. Very unlike the captain, but it was admirable. Despite some bitterness between them, Wesker had won quite a few points in Chris' book.

 _'If she's a recruit, that means I'll have to face the music eventually. Great.'_ He thought with a sigh, turning the fax machine on. The number was scrolled on a post-it residing on Wesker's desk and he made haste to get the information sent off.

Back in the car, the two sat in silence for a few minutes. Sunlight danced over Jill's hands, warming them despite the chill in the air outside. Engine humming softly, it was the sound that filled the dead quiet otherwise while the blond thumbed through a few manila folders he'd brought along. Finally, she spoke.

"I'm sorry that I'm turning your life into a circus. Didn't really know what I'm supposed to tell them…" Her apology was followed by blue eyes veering their gaze over to him. "I…"

Cutting her off, hand raised and expression smoothing over with a smirk, he dropped the subject. "Stop apologizing. You did what I asked of you. Your life is going to be messy for a while. However, when it comes to work…well…"

"You were serious?" She blurted out, brows knitting tightly.

"I was and am. I think being a traffic cop would bore you to tears with your experience. However, S.T.A.R.S. deals with more interesting matters in the area of maintaining peace in Raccoon City and the small townships around the mountain range." His eyes kept to the row of buildings across from the RPD.

"I was working on my criminal justice degree before all of this happened." She had to laugh at the thought.

"Let's see if your credits transfer. You can finish up what you need and then possibly join unless you change your mind. With your current training, all you'd really need is to attend at the academy for nine weeks. It's simple stuff. Much lighter than what you've already gone through. The specialized training is handled here and you're trained by the team you're joining." Grayed eyes peering over at her, his tone turned serious. "I need talent to keep the mountains clean of crime. You could do a great deal of good saving lives." He loathed having to throw this 'star-spangled-banner' bullshit in the air. "I won't lie, there is quite a bit of danger that we run into. However, red tape is to a minimum and you're not waiting for a warrant to reach a judge in order to search a building for guilty parties. Most of that is handled long before boots are on the ground. If you decide that you don't like Raccoon City, I can easily help you pick up and join another branch of S.T.A.R.S. anywhere in the United States."

"I..No! I wouldn't want to leave Raccoon City. Dad is serving his sentence here from what you said…"

"Understandable. Well, should I consider this confirmation that you will take the offer when the time is right?"

Nodding, she smiled and peered out the window at a couple cops making their way across the parking lot. It all felt too good to be true. This place. Him too. He made her feel safe and secure. "Thank you, Albert."

"Mm, of course. Though by the time you're working in S.T.A.R.S. I hope to establish a residence for you far from mine. People talk. You and I know there is nothing between us, but the vast majority love gossip. The town rumor mill, you know."

Her eyes met his, and there was no hiding the red that sketched over her cheeks at the thought. "Agreed. Anything else I should be aware of?" She asked, head pitching its stare out the window to avoid further embarrassing herself.

"Not to my knowledge, aside from not picking the lock on my front door anymore. I'll have a key made for you."

Giving him a look of 'Who, me?' the woman was blessed with a sour look from Wesker. "Fine." She said, twirling a stand of hair around one of her fingers, noticing they had arrived back at his home.


	6. Chapter 6

"Your move." Albert answered, taking a sip from his glass of bourbon while collecting an ivory colored pawn from the board.

"You're killing my little army!" Jill huffed, moving her knight. "Bye bye, bishop." Her wine glass had remained full for most of the evening. Annette's gift didn't seem to go over too well with Jill either.

"You wanted to play. I was set to watch something mind numbing for a few hours." The blonde snickered softly as his queen knocked the knight out of commission. "Check."

"But we just started!" Miss Valentine quickly began examining the board. "Where?"

"Here, look at your king." Bourbon polished off, the empty glass was rested on the table. "Set it up again, I'm going to make sure I didn't burn dinner."

Sitting back in the oversized chair, Jill's expression was torn between laughter and flipping the board. She settled for sipping on wine instead. "Dad taught me to play when I was seven, I didn't think I'd be beaten in a dozen moves."

"Perhaps I'm just lucky." Something in his voice alerted her otherwise.

"There's a difference between luck and skill. You're clearly hustling the board."

"Hustling chess?" He asked from the kitchen, the sound of a cabinet door being shut clapped against the air.

"It's what is to sophisticated men as pool is to the drunk."

"Charming."

Laughing at his slightly bitter reply, she got up and began wandering. Paintings greeted her in earthy colors that matched along the bookcases. Her fingers strolled lazily over the several volumes of books that lined the case behind the couch. 'The Tempest' caught her eye, though Jill didn't bother to pull the aged bit of literature from its place. Only pausing, she pondered over the story.

"We are what dreams are made upon…" A voice reached out to her in the dimly lit room.

Turning, her blue eyes flashed wide. Startled as always by her quieter companion, it didn't stop her from exerting a smile to Albert. "The clouds me thought would open and show riches ready to drop upon me, that when I waked I cried to dream again."

"Act three."

"I've read it a million times. Sounds like you have too." She muttered softly, the pads of her fingers favoring the gold lettering of the book before her hand dropped. "The story isn't entirely wrong."

One blonde brow rising higher than the other curiously.

"Hell is empty and all the devils are here." Turning to face him completely, her bruised eye was no longer shadowed.

Inside, he agreed to that notion.

Outside, he thumbed back toward the kitchen. "The food is getting cold."

Hours passed by, bourbon bottle and wine bottle both empty and they were finally sitting on the couch. He found comfort in whatever was most sedative to the brain on television while she scoured the pages of a beauty magazine that had been impossible to convince her to leave behind at the grocery store earlier.

All Albert knew was that he could smell the overpriced perfume samples on the pages. Overpriced perfume usually dabbed along the neck and wrists. His silvery hues shifted to view her briefly. She was too busy reading.

 _'Probably some article about how to please a man and get his credit card. Those magazines are fucking evil.'_ He thought, absently clicking to another station. Old Western shootout.

Click.

"BUY THIS!"

Click.

"This will take off ten pounds in a week!"

Click.

"Channel surfing?" She had taken notice apparently.

"Fifty stations, nothing on." He finally turned to the news, dropping the remote.

Brows knit; she shifted her feet uncomfortably on the cushioning. Toes curled, she reached out to relieve some unknown cramp. To her surprise, his nearest hand gently pushed hers aside. Appendage in tow, the foot soon was cradled between two palms. Eyes met, she smiled faintly. He didn't return the facial gesture, gray eyes locked onto her. Hesitation and then his eyes darted their stare back to the television.

She laughed softly, cheeks flushed and eyes returning their gaze to the magazine. As quiet as a church mouse, she allowed his hands to take the other foot in tow a moment later to relieve tensions that built along its arch.

"You have a collapsing arch." He commented after letting the foot rest along his thigh.

"Yeah…I do." She really had no idea what that meant, the pounding of her heart drowning out all other thought.

_'What did he say?'_

The constant tapping of Jill's fingers against the table caused Annette to reach across and gently rest her palm over the younger woman's. "Relax, girl. You're starting to make me jittery." The small coffee shop the two agreed to meet at was busy as ever. Aside from the chatter of patrons, there were the birds singing in the squatting trees that dotted along the gated outdoors portion of the shop. It had been two weeks since Jill arrived in the city. Bruises were healing well enough that she felt it safe to be in public.

"Sorry…" Jill offered, retracting the hand to her lap. "I'm just not used to being out of the house without six feet of intimidation on my heels." The cooling cup of coffee was plucked up and a sip taken by Valentine. Though she wouldn't openly admit it, nothing else made her feel safer.

Annette chuckled at the thought. "I know the feeling, though it's usually me scaring anyone who is trying to mug Will."

"Not a bad thing." The cropped haired brunette said absently while shifting the cup of coffee around with one digit. The cookie on the saucer nearby was forgotten.

"No, it's not. How was the trip to the RPD? Were you as disgusted by Chief Irons as I was originally?"

"I…didn't meet him. Met most of S.T.A.R.S. but that was it. Since then, I really haven't been anywhere. We played chess last night."

Annette wrinkled her nose at that remark. "You two played chess? Don't tell me I need to dump you both off at a nursing home."

A broad grin found Jill's lips at the remark. "No, there was nothing on TV and we just talked about Shakespeare and played chess. He was a poor sport after I figured out his strategy and began to beat him."

That caused the Birkin woman to snort. "Well, now I know his weakness. Chess…" She flashed a pearly grin before taking a drink of her coffee. "I do have to say it is nice to see that Albert isn't roaming bars or calling me at five in the morning because he's too drunk to drive. Calls me 'Nutty Netty' when completely smashed."

"He seemed different at the police station, almost a completely different person in the presence of people there." Jill finally remembered the cookie, breaking off a corner of it to eat. "Very chilly."

"Well, how should a captain act? He is their boss. Does he really appear to be someone that calls people of their caliber a 'buddy'?" Jill's head shaking 'No' caused a smirk to fix to Annette's lips. "As I've said a million times, I've known Albert for years. It's hard to earn his trust and he rarely comes out of his mental fortress." Annette's expression seemed torn. "He's…been through a lot."

"I see…" Miss Valentine found her eyes wandering about to the street nearby.

"I'm just glad to see that you are doing better and didn't run off back to Denver. I haven't made many local friends in years." Annette said happily, reaching into her purse for a cigarette. Lighting up, a plume of white left her lips. "Always great to have a girlfriend that can break into my car if I lock my keys in it."

Jill laughed. For the first time in what felt like forever, she genuinely laughed.

The station wagon, which was dubbed by the Birkin woman as the 'Shaggin' Wagon', crept out of its parking space and into traffic on the road with a right turn. Annette, having lit up another cigarette, exhaled a plume of smoke. "Wanna come out to my place? I'm sure I have wine and we can watch 'Stealing Beauty'. Have you seen that movie? I never was much for British films until I saw it."

"I could do with being out of the house for a while longer. I haven't even explored the town yet." A bright smile formed on the scientist's face as they made it to the first light.

"I know it's hard to be alone. I mean you're not alone but… You know what I mean! Let's go out tonight. Give you a chance to meet some people. Mingle a little. God, I want to go out. I haven't been out in ages. Say yes, let's do it!"

No objection from the passenger's seat only a wide grin. "Could be fun."

Jiggling the key in the lock, Annette got the old oak door to finally open. "Need to get that changed out." She was quick to drop her purse and keys on the nearest coffee table.

Jill stepped in shortly after, welcomed by the smell of cinnamon and apples. The Birkin house was not lavish, but it was cozy. Old house, new carpets and drapes, antiques shelved carefully. Valentine could only imagine the humorous arguments the couple had during such a task as turning a house into a home. They probably made movies like 'The Money Pit' look stale in comedy. Following after Annette, she found herself standing in the kitchen. Coffee dominated in scent here, fresh and still brewing. Papers were everywhere. An old copy of the city's newspaper had a few coffee rings on it near the pot.

"Will?" Annette called up to the stairs near the dining area. Sighing happily, the blonde woman quickly retreated to a cabinet to retrieve a couple mugs. "Must be busy."

"I don't want to impose…" Jill began.

"Nonsense, you are always welcome in my house." A steaming cup offered to the brunette, Annette was doing her best not to snap. Not at Jill… that was obvious. "WILL!"

"What?" William soon appeared at the base of the stairs, Sherry in his arms. The sight of him about made both women chuckle. Red derby cap, crazy bowtie and a tweed jacket that was two sizes too small, he was a sight. "We were having a tea party!" Sherry was attempting to tug off the rabbit eared headband from atop her head.

Annette almost choked on her coffee, snickering up a storm. "I can see that. Taking your character a little too seriously?"

Will screwed up his face at the question. "Tea parties are serious business. We were having an un-birthday party."

"Whatever, Mad Hatter. Jill and I are going out later. We'll probably need a designated driver and the bed folded out from the couch upstairs."

The male Birkin's expression dropped. Putting Sherry down, he gently patted the girl on the head before letting her run off to play more. "And… why? Not that I have a problem with it."

Annette shrugged mildly. "She's been cooped up in that house ever since she got here. She hasn't even seen the town yet." A sigh contained, Mrs. Birkin took a drink from her mug of coffee.

"I see…" The cap was tossed off and onto the kitchen table. "Well, welcome to our home, Jill. I sleep walk, so please don't hit me if I come shambling by in the hall in the middle of the night."

Annette shook her head after Jill had excused herself to the bathroom that was down the hall on the left. "Thank you, dear. You can go bother your beard wife if you're bored tonight. I'm dropping Sherry off for a weekend visit with the grandparents at two." The blonde woman sat her cup on the table.

The blonde man wrinkled his nose at that. "No, you're my beard wife. Good grief, Annette." William retorted. "He'd be my secret husband."

"Is that what beard wife means?" The woman's jaw dropped as she suddenly let out a laugh.

"Yes. Why?"

The blonde woman inhaled sharply in her laugher. "I told Johnathan that he needed a beard wife. I couldn't figure out why he was so offended."

William could only shake his head. "You're so blonde."

The bar was one that could only be defined as a 'dive', yet her companion couldn't resist the chance to mingle with the singles on her behalf. Drug in by a hand not holding to a steel grey clutch, the comments of this being a 'bad idea' were drowned out by the blare of music, smoke, and voices.

"She just got to the city and has been staying with friends. Poor girl was cooped up for weeks!" Annette practically yelled over the drone of music to a couple younger guys.

"Do a shot with him! Go on!" The blonde ignored any protest, doing what she did best. Best as a friend, anyway.

"Oh! You should take her out for a dance." Jill left the floor after the fourth partner had stepped on her toes one too many times. Met with Annette's pouting expression and a full martini glass, Valentine elected for alcohol over men. She drank away her thoughts. Drank away the pain.

Forty-five minutes later they found themselves people watching.

"I needed this," Annette stated with a huff. "Stuffy functions with stuffy people do not beat just going out and finding a bar."

It wasn't until about one in the morning that he found her. They talked. He smiled and so did she. They danced. They drank. Dear God, did they drink. Shot after shot, she held her own.

"Taking you home."

She didn't refuse.

Sunlight crept through the blinds, icy irises greeting them with a squinted stare as Jill awoke. Stirring, she gripped her head with a grim expression. Hang over, what a thing to wake up to.

"How much did I have last night?" She asked the room around her, quickly realizing she was not in her own bed.

"A lot of beer and maybe six or seven shots." A graveled voice replied from the doorway.

Jill thought she was going to jump out of her skin. Gaze down, she gasped and quickly clutched to the sheets. "I'm naked…" Dumbfounded or still drunk, the observation was put out there.

"Yes, you are. Great body, by the way." Coffee was offered in a chipped cup to the short haired brunette. "You were this close to letting me tattoo you last night, too." He said with a grin that stood out boldly against his stubble and tanned features.

Handsome, lean and nearly six feet tall, Jill could only visually eat up every inch of his form. Tattoos lined the toned flesh of his arms and pectorals. His face retained youth, despite his scruff and his nose showed signs of once being broken and mended to the best of a physician's ability.

Eyes wide, she took the offered drink and sipped slowly. The heat nipping at her lips caused her to inadvertently roll her tongue over the pouty appendages. "I was? Wow, I must have been really drunk. Are we still in the city?" Concern was growing fast in her gut.

She had thought that Al-… _'I will never drink again.'_

"Uh… yeah, actually we're close to downtown. I work right around the corner from here." Rising once more, he strolled over to the window. "You can see it from here." Wagging a finger to the woman, he smiled a bit wider when she gathered the sheets and joined him.

Jill just stood there with a horrified expression as he pointed out the RPD to her.

"Yeah, that's where I work. I'm a cop… Well, traffic cop right now. I'm thinking I may make detective if I play my cards right in the next decade."

_'This is wrong. This was so wrong! This isn't me! I don't do stuff like this!'_

His story would have to wait, as the sound of a cup clattering on the floor was followed by the cropped haired brunette woman frantically dressing.

"Where ya goin', sexy? Thought we could actually go do something today." Jeans zipped, she shook her head and went to snag her jacket from the floor. He caught her quick with a hand on the leather sleeve. "I have to go!" She practically yelled as she jerked the coat away. Slipping it on, she rushed for the door.

"Hey, wait a minute!" Finding some appropriate pants slowed the dark haired man from following. Regardless, he was down the stairs once they were riding along his hips. "Stop! Come on, give me a chance."

She did, one floor below him looking up. "What? I don't even know your name!"

He smiled the sweetest and goofiest little grin she had ever seen. "It's Kevin. Kevin Slade."

Jill just kept walking.

"I know your name is Jill Valentine. I know you're new to Raccoon City and went out with a girlfriend last night. Your friend kept saying that you were brooding over some family issues and needed to cut loose." He was skipping stairs bare footed to catch up.

"So what?"

"So, you went home with me after we had a blast. Stole traffic cones and left them in all the parking spaces at the RPD. I'm sure that'll be hilarious come Monday."

She stopped again, snorting. "That sounds like me."

"We put it to the man." His boyish grin's warmth could have melted ice caps as he put his fist up.

Two seconds and she was heading down another flight of stairs.

"I know you're lonely. I am too. I told you all of this last night. Just came to Raccoon City a month ago from Chicago myself."

It didn't stop her, though his hand on the door leading outside certainly did. "Are you kidding me?" She barked.

"No, I'm not. I like you. You're rebellious but not the kind that ends up in jail over it."

"Well, that's fabulous. Can I go?"

His face dropped and so did his hand with a sigh. "Yeah, you can go."

Jill stared up at him, her expression cracking as much as his ego had been by her rush to go. As he stepped away, she spoke up. "Look, let me give you my number. I do need to get home so nobody thinks I died."

Kevin snorted a bit. "I'm not desperate."

Her nose wrinkled at that. "If you don't want it…"

"No! I didn't say that, but not out of charity."

"It's not charity." She replied, frowning. "If we had that much fun, I could go for another round of disorderly conduct while not being blackout drunk."

"How about tonight, then?" Kevin was all smiles and sunshine again.

She couldn't help cracking a smile.

Albert stared blankly from across the table at William. His mood was not the warmest this morning. "Where is she, Will?"

Birkin picked at his teeth with a toothpick. "Dunno. She and Annette went out last night. When Annette came home, she attacked me in bed and said nothing about it."

"I don't need the details of your sex life." The blonde grumbled, both hands slicking back his hair. "You said you'd keep an eye on her."

To that, William threw up his hands. "She's an adult, Nanny Patrol! We can't treat her like a hostage. Well, we could but she'd probably not be very happy with that. Unlikely to help us and all that. Oh and she probably could escape any cage you tossed her in with a plastic spoon. Annette will be up soon. We'll find out then. In the meantime… When will Dick be available for a 'visit'?"

"Not soon enough," Albert sighed deeply. Sunglasses dropped on the table, a hand worked at the skin of his temple. "Give Irons a call when you have the chance. Tell him you need Dick on hand in case that new privately funded hospital doesn't hop on board with Umbrella."

William raised a brow. "Why?"

"It's very simple, Will. Umbrella has a monopoly on medical care in Raccoon City. If you don't go to Umbrella, you may as well start digging your own grave. The new company might not wish to come into the fold."

"I know all of that. Why are you worried about it?" Will seemed a bit shocked at the mentioning of it.

"I'm not. Spencer, however, is for good reason."

"But how would Dick be of any use to us in getting rid of competition?"

"Leave that to the old man to figure out."

Annette sauntered in, bathrobe and fuzzy rabbit slippers. All smiles and red cheeks at William's cheesy grin. She made a b-line straight for the coffee, purposely ignoring the man glaring at her.

"Where is she, Annette?"

Steaming hot brown liquid poured into a cup, her star blue eyes lifted to Wesker. "Well, 'good morning' to you, too."

His jaw locked, teeth aching from the pressure.

The blonde woman tipped her head skyward with a sigh. "She just called me from a payphone. She's taking a cab and is on her way here."

"Where was she?" A game of twenty questions was in order.

Two spoonful's of sugar and Annette took her seat with the other two. "She met a guy… He was that really cute cop that let me off with a warning a month ago."

William chuckled a little bit.

"Jealous?" Her light wells of blue met his graying own.

Wesker just looked away.

Her key sliding into the lock was met by the door opening wide. Pacific met the Atlantic in a very even gaze.

"I was wondering when you would show up." Wesker's frosted tones sent a chill down the brunette woman's spine.

He knew.

That much was obvious.

He shut the door behind him, the light of indoors that blinded her swallowed by the shadows of night. His attire of mostly black aside from the red wine scar that wrapped about his neck seemed fitting of his mood and the weather. "Would it be too much to ask that you inform me of your whereabouts?"

"I-…" Startled, Jill stepped back a few feet. "I'm sorry… I met some guy last night."

He lifted a brow to that. "Just met some random man and decided to go home with him?"

"I didn't plan on that happening." Hands jammed into jeans, she shifted her stare elsewhere.

"So you just gave it up within two or three hours of meeting him?" Gloved hands slipping into his pockets, he shrugged. "Doesn't sound like you." It bothered him a little too much. Somehow his perception of her tarnishing was…upsetting. The white dove molting only to expose a single black feather in its previously pristine plumage. "What if he was someone sent here to snatch you?"

Her blue eyes dared to glare at him. Embarrassed.

He offered her a hint of a smirk. It bothered her to disappoint him. No matter for now. Albert strolled past, his shoulder bumping into hers in the process. His steamed breath rich in mint caught her by surprise. "Keep that in mind in the future. I'll give you a chance to clean up. I'll be back tomorrow so we can discuss your testimony. The DA faxed over questions for you. Have a pleasant morning, Miss Valentine. Please don't get yourself snatched. I won't be happy having to collect you a second time."

Anger rising, she glared back at his departing.

"Whatever." She muttered under her breath. Door wretched open, she met the gaze of Will and Annette. She would continue to bury the feelings that tried to grow until they choked from no air. It began with the smile she gave the two. "Hope you two weren't worried!"

Annette chuckled openly.

William just shook his head in the palm of his hand. "How was the walk of shame?"

Jill Valentine wasn't afraid of needles, but she wasn't ready for a tattoo. Seated in a worn out leather chair, she idly browsed an issue of 'Heavy Metal' while Kevin was getting the finishing touches done to a piece on his forearm. The buzz of the shop went unnoticed as she tried to keep herself entertained. _'No luck.'_ Magazine sat to the side, her stare went to the window.

"Bored, babe? We'll be done in a few minutes." Kevin didn't seem too worried about his companion's level of entertainment as he went back to talking to the busty red-head tattooing him.

"Right. I'm going to step outside for a smoke." She was gone in a flash. The night air greeted her with its crisp chill. Fumbling with her cigarettes, the sound of a woman's laughter caught her attention. Eyes up, she viewed a couple crossing the street. The woman she didn't recognize, but the man…

"Chris?" She smiled as the brunette man suddenly turned at the mentioning of his name.

"Huh? Oh, hey… Jane right?"

"It's Jill." The short haired woman offered a wave as Redfield and his female companion approached. "Out for the evening?"

"Uh, yeah… Taking Monica to J's for a bit. Didn't expect to see you again, how have you been doing with..?"

"Pretty good. Just couch surfing until I can find a house."

"Ah, I see." He replied, a smile gracing his stubbled features.

"I'm cold." The woman who must have been Monica said between chattering teeth. Chris's arm and laughter offered refuge from the cold.

"We'd better get going. It was good to see you, Jill."

She nodded, lighting up her cigarette and inhaling. In mere moments, they were gone and the only company for Jill to have was the cold. It was only when she swore the tips of her fingers were threatening to fall off did she head back indoors to Kevin and the ink.

Already donning his leather jacket, the taller brunette gave the woman his usual grin. "I thought that wouldn't last so long."

"It's okay," she offered. Fingers lacing in his, Jill smiled in return. "You want to go to J's?"

Kevin quirked a brow at her, fumbling for his wallet to pay artist for finishing his ink. "We can. I didn't think you knew much about the city yet."

A gentle shrug offered, Jill leaned a hip against the reception desk while change was offered up to her male companion. "I've… heard of it. Never went…"

The messy brunette haired man chuckled softly. "Not trying to interrogate you, sexy. We'll go." Wallet stowed away, he pecked a kiss against her lips before leading her out of the shop.

J's bar was a typical hole in the wall that everyone in town had wandered in once or twice. A lone neon sign indicated that Jill and Kevin had arrived at the correct place. Sounds of music and laughter were muted until that wooden door was swung open. Immediately, cigarette smoke and seven types of cologne hit her nose like a bad wind, music and loud conversation drowned out everything else.

"I'll go get us drinks." Kevin shouted to her, giving her shoulder a squeeze before disappearing into the crowd.

Jill could only nod to him before letting her stare fall on the packed dive bar. Standing by the door, it didn't take her too long to recognize Chris Redfield in the crowd along with a few other members of S.T.A.R.S. Just as she was thinking about approaching, her gaze and the gaze of Forest Speyer met. A devilish grin on his part and the long haired man waved her over to them.

"Look who it is kids!" Forest said as Jill approached. "Uncle Wesker know you snuck out of the house to come hang out with the bad kids?"

Everyone burst into laughter at the question.

"I'm kidding, welcome to J's, girly!" He'd already had a few, from the looks of it.

"Thank you… Umm…" She hunted for a name and came up with none.

Chris came to her rescue, shifting closer and pointing everyone out. "Forest Speyer, Joseph…"

Joseph gave a wave. "Hey there, I'm Joseph Frost. Alpha team's token bald man."

Chris gave a roll of his dark eyes. "Brad's coming back now… He's Alpha Team's pilot."

Brad Vickers finally found his way back to the group, sporting his yellow jacket. Forest gave the man a bonk upside the head. "Hey! Say 'Hi' to Jill, Vickers." A shy nod and the man was staring up at the stage again. To this, Forest snorted. "He's got a thing for the lead singer of 'Criminal Intent'. I think he'll finally get the nerve up to do more than just wheeze when she tries to talk to him."

"Shut up, Forest! If you knew anything about women, you'd know that I respect Joan."

"Okay, that made no sense. You keep trucking, Brad." The long haired brunette man replied with a snort. "Can I get you a beer, Jill?"

Kevin appeared from the crowd, slipping an arm around Jill. "Hey babe…" His eyes shifted up, then widened. "We're partying with S.T.A.R.S.?"

"You may as well. She's gonna be our next rookie unless she wises up and runs for the hills," Chris replied.

The brunette traffic cop blinked, looking down to Jill. "No shit? Well…"

Jill did her best not to smile, pride swelling as she took a sip from the bottle of Budweiser he'd handed to her.

"Oh look, Richard's on stage. RICHARD! YOU SUCK!" Looking to the group, Forest's chuckled. "I need another beer. Be back." With that, he was gone to the bar.

"You'll have to excuse Forest," Brad said meekly, taking a seat at the table close to Jill and Kevin so he could look at the stage while conversing. "He's a bit of a dick when drunk but I don't think I would want anyone else to have my back in a bad situation other than him. He doesn't act his age, unfortunately."

Jill nodded, patting Brad on the shoulder. "I've met many of those, Brad. I think guys like you tend to do better in the long run."

Red devouring Vickers' face, he smiled and raised his glass to her. Shortly after, Forest returned with two beers.

The staff finished setting up the sound system and a young woman appeared on stage in a black jacket and French braid. "Good evening J's Bar! Thank you for being here!" The woman was greeted by cheers and a bit of clapping.

"You suck, Joan!" Forest taunted, grinning wildly.

"What was that, Forest?" The girl on the mic said, one hand coming to rest on her hip.

"I mean, I love you Joan. You rock like Led Zeppelin, only you're a chick."

"That'd better be what you said. Anyway, tonight is karaoke night. As usual, I pray the drunkest out of all of you hit the stage and completely embarrass yourselves while we film you." The woman said with a grin, pointing to 'J', otherwise known as Jack, in the back who had a video camera set up. "Drink specials are on the chalk board, and I hope you all have a good time at our little hole in the wall."

It only took a few seconds for Forest to cook something up, grabbing Chris and heading for the men's room with two empty beer bottles in his possession.

Kenneth Sullivan made an appearance a few minutes later, carefully weaving through chairs to reach the others. "So, where are the two stooges at?" He asked absently, adjusting the very nice watch on his wrist.

"Went to the bathroom to make out, probably." Brad said in a somewhat bitter tone. To this, Chris' date threw him a deathly glare.

"If looks could kill, Brad… You'd be a dead man." Joseph snickered.

A few people went up to the stage to sing, but it was when Forest and Chris rolled out that everyone began to die laughing. Redfield had what appeared to be an old mop top parted to look like a wig on his head, and two beer bottles stuffed in his shirt to add to the appearance. Once on stage, they began to sing: "Babe! I got you babe! Dude, read the lyrics and quit playing with your hooters!" Forest said in dismay.

"I'm checking for lumps. Can't be too careful." Chris said with a laugh.

With that said Forest tried to help only to have one of the bottles fall out and smash on the floor. "Aw! Look what you did!" Redfield said with a sigh, leaving the stage. Forest followed after, their usual boyish behavior resuming before Joan presented them with a broom and dust pan. Cleaning up, the taunting and childishness didn't stop.

While the entire bar roared with laughter, Redfield's date simply glared at the two.

"How did those two graduate?" Joseph asked nobody in particular, wiping a tear from his eye from laughing.

"Teacher passed them just to get them out of her hair, probably." Brad uttered, smiling as Miss Piper approached. "Hi, Joan."

"Hey Brad, I'm surprised you came out tonight. I thought you were flying."

"I flew today in the mountains." He replied, nodding.

Joseph shook his head.

Kevin couldn't help but snort, tugging his leather jacket off.

Nodding in return, the woman shrugged a little. "That sounds like fun." Awkward silence ensued and she finally had to depart. "Well, I'll see you around." Striding off, she looked a little disappointed.

Forest's laughter filled the air as the two returned. "'Oh Brad, I want you. Why can't you say anything that would let me know that you wanted me too?'" Speyer's impression of the woman only made the group laugh more.

"Brad, you just need to get a deeper voice around her. Nothing' gets a lady going like a deep voice. Could tell her that you spent half the day in the john and her panties would still fly off." Ken said with a chuckle.

"Brad's balls haven't dropped. Stop taunting him, Ken." Joseph scoffed, finishing his beer. "You'll get there one day, Vickers."

The teasing was too much apparently, as Brad walked off to the bathroom.

"You're terrible." Jill scolded with a snicker.

"We love Brad, but he needs a thicker skin." Forest said, paying one of the waitresses for another drink. "You good?" His question directed to Jill and Kevin.

Beer finished, she shook the bottle. "Empty." Kevin made the same gesture.

"Hah, alright." Paying the waitress for the other drinks, the long haired man took long look at the rest of the team. "Am I the only one buying her and her boy toy drinks? She's our rookie!"

"Hey, she's not in yet and the last rookie we had was Brad and we all spent too much money to get him drunk and draw on his face in the bathroom." Ken said, taking a swig from his glass of whiskey. To that remark, Joseph flashed a pearly grin.

"We're not looking to get Jill tanked, Daddy Bear. Chris, buy the next round!" Forest said, giving his partner in crime a nudge.

"Huh? Yeah, sure." Redfield was too busy trying to keep this date hanging around to pay attention, apparently.

Looking at Jill, Forest pointed to Chris and shook his head with a comical expression. The only reply from Miss Valentine was a simple shrug. A few hours later, some more members of the team had shown up. Kevin, Ed, Enrico and everyone's favorite 'DD' – Rebecca Chambers.

"Ugh, you all smell of booze." The girl said with a sigh, giving a few members a hug before introducing herself to Jill. She was quick with her intent of approaching. "Please join. It's a wiener fest and I'm so lonely. They smell weird after going to the gym too."

Quite a bit of booing followed from the boys that heard Rebecca. Joseph did a quick pit check.

The night drawing to a close, Joan yelled for 'Last Call', receiving quite a bit of booing from the patrons. "I don't care! You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here!" She said with a smirk, wiping down the bar top.

"You suck, Joan. Your bass player sucks too."

"Forest, I hate you!" She yelled, tossing an empty bottle into the trash can behind the bar. "If you weren't halfway done paying for my four year old's college, I'd have thrown your ass in the street by now."

"Well, lucky me, eh?" Forest was a card, no doubt in that. Suddenly in a choke hold, he knew Richard must have finally heard him. "Hey Richard. I didn't know you were here."

"Real funny, Speyer. Where's the rookie to be?" Richard Aiken asked, glancing to the several faces of the group.

Jill gave a wave. "Hi."

A strange look formed on Aiken's face, as though he was trying to recall something. "Have we met before?"

Shaking her head, Jill shrugged. "Maybe, I was drug into the police station not long ago…"

"No… I'm not on day shift and I heard about that. Huh, I guess you just have one of those faces." Shrugging in return, he smiled. "Anyway, good to meet you."

Nodding, Jill polished off the last of her drink. Chris' promise was kept and another was placed before her. Blue eyes peering at the team, she was glad that the urge to not spend the evening alone had pushed her to attend.

"So, Jill. Dating anyone?" Forest suddenly asked, and this caused everyone else to groan. Kevin looked livid.

"I…" She began, looking to Kevin. For a pair of cops, he and Forest looked like a scuffle between them would be as rough as any found in a biker bar.

"Don't answer that!" Rebecca said with a sigh, tugging on Forest's nearest ear. "She's gonna be our teammate and she's here with a date. When will you stop crossing the line?"

"He invented the eraser that gets rid of that line." Chris finally said with a snicker, getting up from his seat to follow his date out. The woman offered no goodbye or even acknowledgement to anyone who tried to bid her such.

"Now where are you going?" Forest asked, hands lifted up. No reply as the two left and the man sighed. "Chris and Miss Wrong. When will it ever work for him?"

"Oh stop, Forest. It isn't like Chris treats women like you do… Otherwise he'd deserve her wanting to leave." Miss Chambers said with a huff, a hand lifting to comb a few short strands behind her pierced left ear.

"True. You are a very wise woman, Rebecca. Thank you for showing me the error in my ways. I will find Jesus and the woman of my dreams now because of you."

A dirty look thrown at the man and she turned back to Jill. "Like I said: please join. Don't have second thoughts. Please? Pretty please?"

As the entire group stepped outside, more welcoming words were given to Jill as everyone began to disperse. Even on the possibility of her joining, they had done their best to make her feel welcome. Hugs, handshakes and everyone began to duck into cabs or hop in Rebecca's truck at last to head home.

Kevin sighed softly, arms folding about Jill's waist as he peered down at her through wild green eyes. "S.T.A.R.S. huh? When were you going to let me in on that little secret?"

She smirked, giving him a little kiss. "Eventually," the woman uttered, breaking away and grasping for his hand as the pair began to walk towards his car.

"So, does this mean you want to see me again?" His pearly smile all but made her melt as she looked up to him.

"Possibly, though we should take things slow. Getting to know one another that is."

"Little late for that." Kevin chuckled, unlocking the car.

"Whatever." Jill said with an eye roll, opening her car door and getting in. Leaning, Jill pressed her lips to his in a gentle show of affection. "Take me home, Kev."

"Yes ma'am…" The car's engine purring into life, they were gone in a matter of moments.

Two in the morning, coffee brewing in the corner on its squatting table, Albert quietly peered down at the folder in his hands. Discharge papers and a few noteworthy awards stenciled in gold lettering. What Jill had complied for him was starting to shape up. He still needed a complete resume and a background check. That wouldn't take long. File dropped on his desk, he took a seat. Staring out through the windows of the RPD, the star littered sky offered quite a view. Cell phone ringing, he lifted it to inspect the number. Monica… again. Muting it, he ran a palm over his face.

"Burning the candle at both ends?" A very aged and familiar voice swallowed the silence. Spencer.

Head tipping, Wesker peered over to the older man. "Mister Spencer, what do I owe this visit?"

Door shut, the old man stepped into the room. Finding a chair, he took a seat across from Albert. Every time the two met, Wesker swore Spencer looked a million years older. Despite his age, he was dressed well in a black suit. A single gold ring bearing the emblem of Umbrella glinted in the dim light of the room. "Where is she?"

"Safe." Wesker replied. "She's being escorted by an officer this evening while I get some work done."

"I'm glad you remembered how much I value my friends and family." The old man reached into his coat for his pack of cigars.

Unreadable in expression, Albert's eyes shifted to the file on his desk. "She'll be watched until this matter is settled."

"We should have used more caution."

The blonde inhaled sharply through his nose. "She would have been gone before your precious 'Hunk' would have gotten to her… or dead." Silver hues stared evenly at Spencer, golden pen rotated between surgeon's fingers absently.

Ozwell's expression radiated a smug air of knowing more than just what he appeared to. Typical. "She's a special little lady… As long as she's alive, everything will be fine." He lit up his cigar with a wooden match. "Arrangements need to be made to deal with Arvada, he may jump bail and slip out of my reach temporarily. I don't need to remind you just what he's gotten his hands on. I'm assigning this little task to you and Hunk, but I need you to just keep up the charade of going to trial."

Light brows raised, Wesker peered away. "I will." Defeated, he was still Spencer's errand boy even after all these years.

"Thank you for looking after the Valentine girl."

"Of course." The blonde uttered softly.

A bit of ash was flicked on the floor. "I'm leaving for London, so I thought I would stop by. Keep in touch." Not long after, Spencer was gone and Albert was left alone with his thoughts once more.

_'Special little lady… Something is not adding up. Perhaps allowing William to play a role was a mistake. He has his own agendas…'_

A deep sigh and he took a swig from his coffee. Looking into the depths of the cup as the taste of stale drink touched his senses, the captain wrinkled his nose. He wasn't alone with his thoughts for long.

"Who the fuck put traffic cones in my parking lot? WHY ARE ALL OF THE CAR ALARMS GOING OFF?!" Brian Irons screamed from the other side of the aged building.

Albert allowed himself a little smirk as he leaned back in his chair.


	7. Chapter 7

Jill had some combative training, but when one doesn't use it they lose it. Under his guidance, she was fierce once more. He taught her everything he was comfortable with her knowing. He taught her how to be as shapeless as water, taking form only when needed. He taught her to steel herself and retaliate with a vengeance only a black mamba could boast. "Feel the moment, and only then strike." She was a good student, despite a learning curve as steep as Everest. His clay to mold, his words the slick of water and vinegar that held his creation together in spite of exhaustion…right up until his shin caught her square in the gut.

_'Still not fast enough to block that...'_

Wind knocked out of her, Jill let a groan escape her as she took the hand offered by her sparring partner. Wretched from the blue mat, palms came to rest atop her head once she was back on her own two feet. Gray shirt soaked in sweat, the woman let a cough break free. "I need a break." She muttered breathlessly, striding to her gym bag at the other end. Dropping on her rear back on the mat with water bottle in hand, Jill wasted no time sucking down the warming water in the bottle.

"Already? I thought the academy was a 'cake walk'. Unarmed combat should have been covered. Everything else becomes more effective, an extension of your body." Albert's voice echoed in the empty gym as he stood over her. Saturday morning, nobody else around to watch the captain correct every flaw of his newest recruit's training.

The training itself at the academy had been difficult, so many laws and procedures hammered into her brain every day. Being pepper sprayed was probably the worst part, though all of that was over. _'Was ready to fight someone for that.'_ She absently thought with a grin, finishing off the water bottle's contents. "I may have fibbed about that."

After retrieving a towel from atop her bag, the blonde mopped away sweat that was starting to pour. "You don't say?" Towel rolled up for a head rest, the blonde allowed himself to lie back as well. Eyes shutting, he let off a sigh. "How's the house hunt going?"

"Horrible. Raccoon City's slums are looking like where I'm going to end up living." Jill's voice echoed in miserable tones as she rolled to look at him. "On the bright side I'll have a good reason to listen to Elvis Presley's 'In the Ghetto' on my way home from work every day."

A chuckle left the blonde. "You're not going to live in the older part of town. I'll see what I can find now that I'm not on night shift. Marini is back from vacation and I was looking at an apartment in Uptown. It might still be available."

Jill let out a sigh. "Kevin wants me to move in with him if I don't find something soon." She shook her head at the eyeroll from her companion on the mat. "I told him I'd think about it."

Wesker just shook his head slowly. "You've only known him a few months."

"I know."

"It would be wise to decline and end relations with him on your terms."

"Why?"

"Because as soon as you are in S.T.A.R.S. you're a peer, and no longer someone to stroke his ego. He'll get rid of you as soon as he finds the next desperate thing to take to his bed. He'll call you a whore, they'll all make fun of you in the locker room. God help you if he ever gets a photograph of you because everyone will see it. It'll all end in tears. Save yourself the fucking heartache." Those cruel eyes switched their stare to hers. Sweat hung as tiny jewels along the angles of his face.

Jill looked away, sighing. "You certainly don't sugarcoat it."

"He's done it before. Ask Ross about how good that feels." Slade was bright, but he was still trash even with that badge. Worse than Redfield… and Wesker was already notorious for disliking Christopher. It seemed to him that's what Jill ran with, almost as if that's all she knew. "Do you love him?"

"Oh God no!" Jill's head jerked to look at him. She let out a laugh suddenly. "No. No way. I'm not stupid. I see how he looks at every woman who crosses his path."

"You mean his sociopath?" He smiled to himself as she giggled. "Then why even entertain him?"

To that question, Jill just shrugged and pitched her stare to the ceiling. "I don't know. Maybe he was good for my ego too? He's something to do." She was quiet for a while, chest rising and falling with each breath. "Sometimes I want more, but not with him. I want someone who sees me. You know?" She found herself staring into two empty pools of blue.

Albert had no reply to that, only a nod before he sat up.

"Thanks for looking out for me, though."

The echo of her words followed him to the locker room as they parted ways. Twenty minutes later he stood under the spray of water in the showers, rivers running down his back as he tried to pick the lock to the cage that was his own pride.

* * *

It had been close to midnight when Brad had dropped her off at the coordinates, the landing zone not much more than a grassy patch void of trees. The Arklay Mountains were their proving grounds. Every member of S.T.A.R.S. had to know these mountains, and know them well. This was where they were needed most. All the way to the landing zone, she had idly listened to Vickers explain how they'd all endured this one week of training.

"Hell week."

"Fitting name." Jill could feel herself becoming green around the gills, stomach not appreciating the pilot putting the helicopter into auto-rotation without even so much as a warning. The sudden absence of the engine's roar and lights all over the front dash lighting up or flashing did more than catch her attention. Despite being strapped in, her fear could not have been greater. _'SHHHHHIIIITTTTTT!'_

At the last one hundred feet, Brad finally spoke. "Gonna be a mild flare." Collective pulled, they landed without hazard mere seconds later.

Door slid open; Jill pitched the headset and grabbed her pack. "Brad?" She called back once outside the aircraft.

"Yeah?"

"Don't ever do that again…"

The brunette man gave a heavy sigh. "I'm sorry, but I had to do an auto-rotate after that engine was replaced. You should hang around the hangar more, might learn something other than pushing papers. I could really use another set of eyes on my pre-flights."

Door slid shut; she adjusted the pack over her shoulders and stepped about the aircraft to the pilot's side door. "Might be smart to do that out at the airfield instead of on the clock, you know. I don't know a thing about helicopters and you probably don't want to relive Hell Week with me." A pause and she stepped away from his open door. "You're clear on the APU for start."

A smile breaking out on his face, Brad nodded. "See you in a week, rookie." Salute tossed to her, he began procedures to take off. He was gone within five minutes, the formation lights and drone of the rotors soon faint in the distance.

'Great…'

Land navigation was the first task, her compass fished out from its pocket along the strap of her pack. Flashlight and map followed soon after, her cornflower blue eyes fixed on the terrain on the map, then she peered around. "Well, I'm at the right place." Flashlight clicked off, she gazed at the glowing green needle of her compass. "North…four clicks." She uttered softly, trudging in the direction she was destined to follow. The stars only helped her further along; Albert's little methods of navigation he'd shared were paying off.

'He's taught me so much…' She thought fondly, stepping over a rotten log. Night in the mountains was beautiful, no lights and only billions of stars overhead to be seen. She'd never count them all. The air was sweet with pine, shadows dancing in rhythm with wind and moonlight. Stopping at a narrow trail, she checked her map once more. Getting lost would not be good.

'Four clicks north, then head east along the river until it forks… A tree that doesn't belong there is where you'll find the next coordinates.'

'So theatrical, you'd think I was on a quest for the Holy Grail.' She sighed inwardly, passing through the narrow trail. The sounds of the night were all around her: bugs, birds, and the occasional howl of a coyote. The mountains were primal still, despite man's attempt to tame them. She could see it in every tree she passed, every owl spotted on the branch. High above, a swarm of bats forked through the trees, expert pilots weaving through the treetops. The little critters were her favorite, always eating the bugs that loved biting or just being a pest in general.

Her thoughts began to wander around 2:45 AM, nearly at the river where she'd need to make her turn. 'Really haven't had time to process everything… It's all happening so fast. Have to give testimony soon, and I don't know how I can help Dad at all. That attorney has my story water tight, but I don't know what's going to happen…' She second guessed herself and the future all the way to the riverbank.

Other thoughts swam through her mind. The future really was a big question mark at this point. There was S.T.A.R.S., though she didn't know how long that'd last.

 _'Then there's him...'_ There was something different now in the way he looked at her. Occasionally his shoulder would brush against her in the hallway. Graveyard shift he had said nothing and quietly cleaned his weapon while she fought off a cold, snoozing on the couch crammed in his office. A Styrofoam cup filled with coffee and a bottle of cold medicine waited on one of the filing cabinets. He was gone with the sunlight, off to another meeting while she packed it up to head home.

It was hard to get him out of her head.

The sound of a low growl brought her back to reality. Beretta clicked from her holster, she crouched with it in hand. There were predators out here…

_'That'd be my luck.'_

Slowly rising to her feet, her gaze flicked all around her in search of the source. Nothing, and the sound had stopped. Jill hadn't realized she was holding her breath, and suddenly gasped. Shaking her head, hair gently tucked behind her ears, she continued on her way east. She swore she heard something following her the entire way. 

* * *

Daybreak, she'd reached the fork. The land next to the river had proven unforgiving, her feet sore and body tired. Peering around, she finally saw the tree. Sporting brilliant red leaves, coordinates were carved into a bare spot along its trunk. Stepping closer to it, a message was scratched in next to it. "Fear has its use but cowardice has none." Looking to the right, she frowned at the knife stabbed into the tree. Pulling it out, she recognized it almost immediately. Black, gold emblem of S.T.A.R.S. etched on its side. Several notches jetted from the back of the blade giving it a wicked appearance.

 _'Wesker…'_ He must have one deadly thrust with a knife if he could get steel jabbed that deep. The thought sent a chill down her spine. Blade kept in tow; she slowly circled around.

 _'He's out here...'_ Part of her training would be an ambush. Train as you fight, was the motto. Nothing to be found, though. Paranoia was mounting once more in her mind as she stepped away. Finding cover, she pulled out her map and began to locate the coordinates for the next point. Soon enough, she was on her way once again.

As the brunette woman continued on her way, she'd completely missed Albert standing not even ten feet away in the trees. Camouflaged in fatigues, face paint, and a ball cap; he really thought he wouldn't have been hard to miss. Yet, there she went. Fine details missed her eyes.

_'Maybe it's time to fix that…'_

He'd wait until she was at ease. That would be when he'd strike, and hopefully she was ready. He expected her to do well, regardless. She'd proven herself a capable fighter.

Twenty minutes had passed; it was time to follow her. She was making good time. He suddenly stopped, frozen in place.

_'Oh. Shit…'_

Apparently she wasn't the only thing that had missed him, a lone mountain lion making its way along the trail the woman had taken. He was young, beautifully colored, and big for his species—possibly an inexperienced hunter looking for food. The animal was likely looking for easy prey. Blue tongue had wiped out most of the usual deer that made up the creature's diet, no doubt. It had been an issue for years in the mountains, and precisely how Spencer was able to bring scientists to this remote area. A perfect cover for creating freaks. The feline was soon on a dead run and gone from sight before Wesker even had a chance to draw his weapon and put it down.

 _'This is why I hate the woods.'_ The blonde bolted after as well, cursing silently to himself as he removed his own hand gun from its holster.

At the river, Jill had stopped to rest. Allotting herself an hour before continuing, she thought it wouldn't hurt to soak her feet. Pack, cargo belt, boots and socks left at a nearby tree, she wouldn't go far. Cargo pants rolled up just below her knees, the icy cold water felt wonderful on her sore calves and feet as she stepped into the rushing waters. The sun was peeking between the trees of the late afternoon, and the world around her felt at peace for the moment. Far above, an eagle rode thermals, lazily tracing the river in its hunt for food. _'I wonder if Heaven even has a shot being this beautiful…'_ A deep growl suddenly caused her gaze to shoot to the right, and there it was. "Oh fuck…" She whispered, facing what she had no doubt had been what made the sound the night before. Her blood ran cold in her veins.

The cougar was already crouched along the bank with paws on the sand bar, less than thirty feet away from her. Its large eyes were fixed on her like someone had just rung the dinner bell. Large, well built, it was the last thing anyone wanted to see with the sun already beginning to show signs of dipping behind the trees.

A hand instinctively went to her hip, no gun to be found, only the knife that was put on loan. _'Fuck again!'_ Drawing the blade, she had no choice but to use it. Too far from her pack, she would never reach her gun. Eyes clicking back to the creature, she inhaled deeply. Heart thumping harshly against her ribcage, she slowly began to move back, feet splashing water in the river's current.

The creature was apparently not in the mood for games as it sprung forward at blinding speed into the cold waters. She'd moved too far back for a leap to be effective. The gap between them reduced to zero, paws and claws shoving her back.

Knocked right into the water, the cold was a shock to her system if the knock to the back of her head already hadn't put her in a daze. As she sent under the current, it was a struggle to get her head back out for oxygen.

_'GonnadiegonnadiegonnadieGONNADIE!'_

Effectively pinning her in the water, he couldn't get to her throat as an arm was in the way and he was more than happy to slam his jaws around that. The taste of copper drenched his tongue, and the unexpected happened—she fought back.

Knife brought up with an expert's palm, she jammed the blade right into the creature's eye socket. A distinct pop hit the air and warm liquid drenched her hand. She yanked back on the edge, ready to go for the skull next. Running on pure instinct, every fiber of her being was screaming for her muscles to deliver their worst.

If anything, she'd just pissed it off. Horrid pain and now blind in one eye, the creature was quick to lose interest in this less than friendly meal. Giving her arm a shake, he nearly pulled it out of socket as he tore back. His teeth couldn't manage to bite down hard enough to puncture, but did slice skin. A terrifying hiss on his part, ears pinned back and he backed off as soon as this little creature swiped at him again, roaring curses. Lucky to dodge, he was out of the river, retreated and gone in a matter of seconds. There was easier prey, and he would be scarred for life by this one…

Adrenaline wearing off, Jill's chest hefted deep and fast breath. Letting out a pained and terrified scream, the sound drowned the area. Wildlife ceased their usual music for a time, bristling at the newcomer to their kingdom making such a ruckus. Jill could feel panic wafting over her. She tried to scream again, tried to cry, only able to blubber out pitiful wails as she clamped her hand over the wound on her arm. The back of her skull was pounding; the riverbed hadn't exactly been a feather pillow. Never before had she felt so much pain. Fleeing to her pack, drenched from head to toe, she had to get the bleeding to stop. Clean white gauze wrapped over and over the actual bandage. Medical tape followed. Rebecca was a good teacher.

 _'Stupid, stupid, stupid!'_ The words wailed in her head, banging on every part of her skull as she checked herself over. A shaky breath, tears ran down her face as she felt along her collarbone. Nothing felt broken. A deep breath and she wrung out her muddy hair of excess water. She was a wreck…

_'An impressive wreck…'_

Watching silently, Albert stared on from his vantage point in the tree line that ran parallel with the river. His gaze followed her as she moved.

_'Could help her. She is bleeding...'_

It was still a training exercise and he wasn't alone. Head tipping, he peered over his shoulder as someone approached. Redfield, of course, with a rifle in tow.

"I saw kitty fleeing for the hills through the scope."

"She maimed it, and I don't think it's coming back for more." Noticing the brunette man standing shoulder to shoulder with him, Wesker frowned just a touch as his gaze returned to the woman. "Have Forest bring Rebecca out here. We'll let her keep going for now."

Chris' expression was a mixture of concern and surprise at the call. "Shouldn't we pull her out? She might attract something else."

A sigh filled the air between them, Wesker sounded almost annoyed. "We'll catch up with her when she makes camp to check on her. If Rebecca thinks she should be taken back to the city, we'll get medevac out here." His blue eyes shifted to Chris.

"Yes, sir." Chris didn't sound convinced.

Albert flicked his stare back towards Jill, a grin doing its best to hide though to little avail. She fought off a wild animal with nothing but a knife and was ready to put it down. Already she was packed and trudging towards her next destination. _'Good girl…'_

* * *

Twilight and she'd reached the bare rock trail that led up to where she could make camp. Forest had told her every member of S.T.A.R.S. had carved their names up there and it would be her turn as well. Silver lining, in this very shitty experience for Jill Valentine. The bugs had been biting all day, sun unforgiving and exhaustion playing its role. She'd already drank all of her water, lost almost an hour of time fishing out her compass from the river leaving her pack soaked from that. Heat exhaustion seemed imminent but the sun dying down had helped cool her off. Oh, and 170 pounds of cat had tried to eat her because she'd decided to go play in the fucking river! So many screw ups…

_'And this is just the first day. Fucking great…'_

Setting up camp had been dropping her pack and the outer belt holding canteens, hand gun, and medic kit. Boots torn off, she frowned at her sopping wet socks. Wringing them out the best she could, she laid them out to dry nearby. With no idea how long it'd take for that to happen, she began fishing in her pack for something to fill her stomach. Simple rations had been all she was allowed to take along. Nothing sweet to draw ants, nothing that required cooking. The best she'd come up with was a meatloaf ration. The last thing Jill Valentine ever liked touching was meatloaf. She was so starved she ate it anyway, hardly having time to taste it. Garbage tossed into one of the pockets of her pack, she knew to leave nothing behind but footprints.

Exploring the small flat area of rock, the brunette soon found the carvings Speyer had been talking about. It was more than names and dates, they'd left some personal notes here. His was the funniest out of all of them. 'Don't beam me up yet Scottie, I'm taking a shi-…' with the 'I' carved going skyward. Must have taken him forever to scrape all the way up the rock's face. "What a dork." She chuckled, reading over the others. Redfield's had been the most sentimental, a message to his parents wishing they could see the mountains.

 _'I wonder if they're dead…'_ Her fingers traced across his name, blue eyes drifting over the others. She had heard him talking about his sister but never parents. Tugging the knife she'd been left from its sheathing, she circled the rock for an appropriate place to carve her own words.

 _'Forest said nobody ever comes up here… this is just for us.'_ She thought, fingers tracing over the blank stone. Her arm throbbed horribly, already red peeking through the bandaging. She wasn't the world's greatest medic, and new bandages and pain medication would be needed soon. Changing the dressings was important, she knew that.

_'I'm so tired, but what if I don't wake up? Where the hell is Wesker?'_

"Jill." A voice cut through the air like a knife.

She jumped and let out a hard breath, leaning against the rock. "Captain."

"Are you alright?" Wesker asked, stepping out of the darkness and into plain view.

"I was attacked." Returning to her pack, she dropped down to sit. "Not having the best night."

Albert retrieved the medical kit she'd been carrying with her equipment, dropping to a knee next to her. Bloodied and beaten, but not out. She looked stirred but not shaken.

He made up his mind that Redfield had been wrong. "Jill… What am I going to do with you?" He uttered softly, hands lifting her arm to inspect the shoddy bandaging. Concern knit all over his brown as he began to lift back what used to be white gauze. The wound was ugly but not as bad as he'd anticipated. The radio on his hip crackled with the sound of Chris' voice. Clean gauze pressed over the wound on her arm, he held tight while pulling the radio up. His thumb brushed over repeatedly. Almost affectionate.

She was calming either way. A good sign. "It's nice to see a friendly face."

"Chris, get Rebecca up here. Now." His voice was calm, but something in way he said it had Miss Chambers at Jill's side in less than three minutes.

"You've been following me?" She asked. The medication was doing its job nicely while Rebecca worked stitching the wound. Chris and Forest were nearby, peering over the messages carved in limestone of the campsite.

"We always do during this, Jill." Rebecca replied, carefully stitching the wound shut. "You're lucky. Usually we hang back a little more, but the Captain said he spotted a mountain lion."

"She's more than lucky, she's bad ass! Sent that kitty cat fleeing for the hills! We'll know it's him if we ever see him again. Only mountain lion sporting an eye patch." Forest chimed in. "Cap'n, how much do these things weigh? 200 pounds? Cap'n?"

Wesker had his back to everyone, peering out over the darkened mountains. Once again, seeming deep in thought, he actually had his gaze fixed on something in the distance. Nestled neatly in one of the passes within viewing distance, Spencer's estate was dark tonight. _'Probably a problem with the power… Lab always eats up all of it. Working in those conditions…'_

"Captain Wesker?"

Head jerking, he peered over his shoulder to Rebecca Chambers. "Yes?"

"All done, she's going to feel great for a while. Probably should head back to town and have it looked at by a doctor."

"No shit, Sherlock. She had Hell Week in one day. I say she passes. Navigated up here and nearly dropped a mountain lion." Forest grinned, lighting up a cigarette. The captain's brows narrowing briefly seemed to go unnoticed by him.

"I agree." Chris uttered softly. "I don't think anyone else had to deal with more than being sore from rappelling down the side of cliff face about ten miles east."

Sighing inwardly, Wesker returned his stare towards the mountains. "What do you think, Miss Valentine? Should I pass you and send you home tonight to a warm bed? Or will you keep going and put everyone to shame?" He turned to face her fully, moonlight draped over his shoulders. No sunglasses, face still smeared with camo paint, his blue eyes stared her down.

She stared up at him for the longest time, dirty, tired and wounded. "I… I'll go home…"

A single blonde brow lifted.

"…After I finish this."

The corners of his mouth lifted. Nodding, Wesker ran a hand through his blonde hair before slipping the ball cap back on. "Sounds good, I wouldn't expect any less from you."

"Oh great, now the rest of us sound like pussies." Forest complained, making a face when Chris pushed his shoulder.

"Let's get her some fresh supplies from the truck before we head down to the forest station. C'mon, 'Becca."

"Grab my pack out of the truck for her, its dry and there is little chance of her getting it soaked with the river behind her now." Wesker called out to the pair. Rebecca finally making her way back down after them gave him the opportunity to speak. Jill was examining the fresh bandaging. "You do not have to do this." His words were swift and quiet.

"Yes, I do." Jill sat back against her pack, wincing visibly. "No special treatment."

"None of these people are going to think less of you if you come home." He offered, kneeling in front of her. He reached out for her hand, examining it between long fingers. Her knuckles were scabbed in dark red. 

"I'm staying." She said firmly, drawing her hand back. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, don't worry. I'm a tough cookie."

Whatever answer he had for that was brushed off as the trio returned with Wesker's pack. He could only watch in silence as she slid the pack on with Chris' help. Somewhere inside, the part of him that was wanton did its best to burrow free. It didn't care; it just wanted what it wanted.

Rebecca brought him back to reality. "Captain Wesker?"

"Yes, Miss Chambers?" His blue eyes focused on the young woman as she approached with the keys.

She smiled up at him. "I said we've all agreed we'll go with her for the rest of the course. I'm not happy that she's refusing to go to the hospital, but I admire wanting to see it through. If anything goes wrong, she has a medic and two boys that can carry her back to the highway. Chris radioed Barry to bring us some packs and supplies tomorrow morning when we reach the highway. We'll handle this."

He nodded; heels of his palms brought together and fingers enclosing as he caught the keys for the truck. "Good. I'll swing by the forest station and report the attack before heading to the RPD. They'll need to put that cougar down before it attacks someone else. You three know the way, just lead her there. Chris, I know your rappel master certification renewal is soon. I'll sign it off if she comes back in one piece." Turning away, he began down the trail. "Good luck, Miss Valentine." He was gone in minutes, the lights from the truck shrinking.

"Fear has its use but cowardice has none." Rebecca echoed, seeing Chris finally finish carving out Jill's mark along with the rest of them. "Morbid."

"Very and very true." Redfield said with a grin, peering down at the little brunette dressed in white and green.

* * *

Forty five minutes later, they'd already put camp far behind them. Jill was feeling the effects of the medication wearing off. "I thought tactical travel was supposed to be quiet." The voice was hers but the words belonged to the blonde traveling now somewhere between the mountains and Raccoon City.

"Yeah, but this week was supposed to be cougar free also…" Forest replied, slapping the back of his hand against Chris' shoulder. "Can you believe him?"

"Who? Wesker?" Redfield sounded a little preoccupied.

"Yeah, she gets here and he's charging through her training like a bull in a china shop. The cougar was a sign."

"Here we go again, Forest the fortune teller." Chris grinned over at the long haired man.

"I'm serious, Chris. He's pushing her too hard. I'm not a fortune teller. I'm a light worker. Okay? Know the difference." He peered over his shoulder to Jill and Rebecca, both looking so confused. "We signed up for what we thought was a metal working class…"

"And wound up drinking what tasted like grass, holding crystals, and talking about our feelings…" Chris chimed in.

Speyer grinned. "Teacher was hot."

"What do you mean that a cougar is a sign?" Jill asked, trudging along behind the pair of men. The S.T.A.R.S. logos on the back of their vests stood out boldly in the moonlight.

Forest and Chris exchanged a look, Redfield giving a shrug. "It means you're being preyed upon by someone if you believe Forest." Compass fished out from his pocket, Chris peered down at the glowing face of it.

"I think the danger was the cat itself. Don't put much thought into that, Jill. I only think too much is being shoved down your throat where we all had plenty of time to get this under our belts. I know Irons is on your case like ugly on…Brian Irons. I also know Wesker is trying to get everything done before winter sets in but this isn't ideal." Stare drifted down to the compass as well, Forest frowns. "Are we lost?"

"Nah, just making sure we're good." Chris ran a hand through his short hair as they continued on. "What did you say, Becca?"

"I asked if you'd heard from Monica lately. You two still fighting or did you break up?"

Redfield was quiet for a while, hands resting on top of his head as they traveled in the dark. "She was fucking Wesker."

The two women jerked their stare to Chris in no time flat, both looking horrified. Forest must have already known since he was calm as a pond. "Confront that dick about it yet?" Forest asked, looking over to Chris. Redfield's expression must have given it all away. "No, of course not. You let that guy walk all over you like you're his fucking door mat, man."

"I was going to this morning when he called me out here to observe Jill's progress so he could go 'take care of some things'. We were going to settle the score."

"Then the cougar showed up and the plan was botched. Got it." Rebecca sighed heavily, stepping up to match Chris' pace and wrap her arms around his right bicep in a brief hug. "How did you find out?"

The short haired brunette shrugged. "She confessed last night. Monica was bawling her eyes out that he'd just turned her away out of the blue one day and wouldn't return her calls. Then his number was suddenly changed. She showed up at his house one night and he told her to leave and not come back unless she wanted a restraining order placed on her. It was almost like he'd cast a spell on her, she's just whacko over him. She didn't want me back, just wanted to get it off her chest."

"What a bitch." Speyer spat out, hands jamming into his pockets as he peered through the trees. "Never get tangled up with a man in power, ladies. That was probably the best advice my dad ever gave my sister. Find one that can build his world around you, not his ego."

"I already have Ed, I don't think he'll be making captain any time soon. He's wanting to switch out and make detective." Rebecca beamed, her pride in the man swelled so in her voice it was impossible to ignore.

"Dewey would make a good detective. How you holding up back there, Jill?" Forest asked over his shoulder.

"Doing fine, just hanging back and listening." She was glad they were caught up in their little world, gave her something to listen to and not think.

_'Poor Chris. I remember meeting her that night we went to J's.'_

Her thoughts wandered with every mile they traversed.

Chris began to hang back a bit, walking in stride with her. "How are you really holding up? How's Kevin been?"

"He stopped returning my calls." She uttered softly. Chris' hand on her shoulder felt warm and welcoming, like a brother's love radiated through the appendage.

"You both have no luck. Hey it's his loss." The long haired man called back. "Just focus this week on getting through this training. You'll be done after this, a member of S.T.A.R.S. and mission ready." A pause and he grinned as he peered ahead to the clearing they were approaching. "Maybe we can even go on a date. That'd piss him off."

"Forest!" Rebecca scolded, pinching the tall man's arm. "Not appropriate!"

"What? I only get one life to be shot down by every attractive woman I meet!"

Chris just rolled his eyes, hand dropping from Jill's shoulder at long last. He smiled down at her as soon as he noticed her cornflower gaze was on him.

She smiled back. Stare shifting back to the forest ahead of them, something kept nagging her about the omen of the feline.

And one day, she would regret not heeding the warning.

Not now, though. Now it was on to the mountain ahead.

* * *

  
"You comfortable with the Swiss Seat, Jill? Going to have to take it slow going down, but it should provide all the support you need."

Day 7 of Hell Week and Jill was ready to be done with this training. She gave a brief nod to Chris, backing up to the edge of the drop off. Already they'd crisscrossed over the mountains, covered most of the handbook on survival skills, and operational procedures out in the field just to kill the time. She ate it all up, committing it to memory. Much as before, the learning curve had been steep but Valentine wasn't one to shy away from it.

"This is it?" She peered up to Chris as she held fast and leaned back. The rope was taunt as she hung in the air with the tension and her feet against the stone the only reasons she wasn't dropping.

Redfield nodded. "Yup, get down to the ground below and you are done! Any questions at all?" he asked.

Jill shook her head, sweat rolling down her face. "No, I'm ready."

"Then I will see you at the bottom. Take your time." Head tipping to peer over his shoulder, he called out to the other two. "C'mon, Rebecca, you're next."

The rappel was far easier than she'd ever expected. Pushing off the wall, she'd slack the rope as she slid down. Stopping was a breeze, combat boots squared on the wall before her next push off the wall. Forest's cheering far above caused her face to flare red. On the ground, she gave her rope a tug and began to untie it.

"Now that was just about perfect." Enrico muttered, stepping away from the suburban shaded by the tall pines on the other side of the dirt road.

"I would say so." Wesker replied; hands at the small of his back as he followed. Eyes shaded by sunglasses, his gaze was fixed on the woman. Now she was even filthier than before, the blood stains nothing but brown patches on her top and pants.

_'Beautiful…'_

"Where do you find these kids? She's fantastic." Marini didn't ever quite grasp why the other captain was so cool in expression, especially on the day his team was at last complete since the loss of three to a horrible helicopter crash two years prior. He chalked it up to personality and left it at that every time. As she began to help Rebecca, the aged brunette's praises continued. "Girl is tough as nails right there. Irons kept saying she was trouble when he cornered me in the hall. I just nodded a lot. I didn't know what to think until now. He's got rocks between the ears."

"Total incompetence. I will never know how he made it out of the academy." Wesker's gaze shifted to the group at the base of the mountain. "Let me know when you finally decide to rub elbows with the mayor for his spot."

At that, Enrico snorted. "Now why do you have to bring that up again? Last time you said that to me, that dipshit had me out with the traffic guys writing tickets for a month." Arms folded across his chest, he could only shake his head in displeasure as the other captain chuckled. "I swear, you say these things just so they'll become rumors and he ends up flipping out and has to take anger management courses."

"Oh, I don't do that, Captain Marini. You must have me mistaken for some other Captain Wesker who Irons calls an 'asshole' when he thinks I'm not right behind him."

"Those new officers were pale as ghosts when he said that. Apparently you missed him calling you some other things, though." Enrico pinched at the bridge of his nose, chuckling softly.

As Forest made contact with the ground, Wesker grinned a bit. He played along in these little 'heart to heart' moments Marini was so fond of. He came from the old Army, still acted like he was still in it from time to time. "Well, he removes all doubt he's a moron within a day of meeting someone. I'm unbothered by his insults."

Finally Chris made it to the ground, and everyone was accounted for. Packs picked up, the four approached the two captains. Enrico addressed the group first, arms out wide in a greeting. "Welcome back to civilization, kids. Hope you four enjoyed your vacation."

Forest's expression dropped at that. Captain Marini never started that line without something to follow. "What's happened?"

"Hotel murders just got passed down to Bravo Team." Enrico's arms dropped. "Rebecca, you're going to be briefed for undercover with two blue suits. Seems this creep has a thing for young brunette ladies, and we're setting up." Brushing his index and thumb over his mustache, the aged captain sighed deeply. "I wish I could give you two the night off, but I need ya. You did a good thing out here. We need that cohesion. I promise the first chance I get that I'm giving you two a week off." Both Forest and Rebecca gave their captain the usual 'high-five', despite their exhaustion.

 _'Kind words from a man that won't follow through on his promise. No spine when it comes to Irons and his demands.'_ Wesker stepped around, beckoning for the other two to approach him. Both Redfield and Valentine looked worn out. "Alright, Chris you have the night off. You're dismissed to return to the RPD with Bravo Team. Have a good weekend; I'll see you on Monday."

"What about Jill?" Curiosity was about to kill the Chris.

The brunette woman dropped her gaze to her boots, having a hunch what was coming next between the two men.

Somehow, Albert's usual cold tone didn't shine through. "Miss Valentine needs to stick around." His lensed eyes peered over to the brunette man. "Anything else, Redfield?"

"Uh… yeah, there is something I need to talk to you about. It's important, though about a private matter." Redfield looked five shades of uncomfortable.

"Can it wait until Monday?" Brows lifted, the blonde waited for a reply. He half expected Chris to have his usual out of body when being told to wait. To his surprise, it never came.

"Yeah… It can wait." Turning away, the brunette man gathered his pack and slung it over his shoulder. He paused to rest a hand on Jill's shoulder. "You did good Jill. Welcome to Alpha Team."

"Thanks, Chris." She nodded, offering a weak smile as Redfield departed to leave with Bravo Team.

As the suburban disappeared down the dusty road, Wesker turned his gaze back to Jill. "So, you managed to pick a fight with a wild animal, and landed yourself here for a week without shower or a decent meal. Still glad you stayed?"

Her gaze remained low, eyes slowly blinking. Jill still managed to give a thumbs up. "Yep." She'd finally hit the wall. 

"Hmm." He slowly circled her, finally coming to a stop at her side. Sunglasses removed, he leaned back against the truck.

"Did I do bad?"

"No, not at all."

"Then what?"

Gazing off toward the tree line, Wesker shrugged. "I was just thinking about how much Brad cried when a hedgehog ambushed him in his sleeping bag when he went through Hell Week."

Jill's laugh was a messy thing as it hit the air.

"He screamed like someone had just attempted to murder him. Barry thought he was in trouble, tripped and sprained his ankle." Wesker just shook his head. "You did fine. So, what does Christopher want on Monday?"

"He wants to talk about Monica."

His expression dropped, arms folding across his chest. "Well, I wasn't planning on having a good Monday anyway."

Her gaze rested ahead of her on the trees. "He said she stalked you." As he sighed and turned away while hand running through his hair, she looked over at him.

"I had no idea she was seeing him, honestly. Not until I saw her picking him up from work one day." He slid his sunglasses back on, a hand digging into his pocket for the keys to the truck. Picking up her pack, he strode to the truck's driver side. Pack dumped in the bed, he unlocked the doors. "Let's go."

"Why did you break it off?" Jill asked as soon as she was comfortably in the passenger seat, seatbelt fastened.

"She was just something to do." The engine roared into life as he turned the key in the ignition. Putting the truck in reverse, he swung the vehicle around to face the direction Bravo Team's vehicle had taken.

"Hmm."

Drive selected, the vehicle rolled forward a few feet before the blonde pressed the brake. Looking over to her, his brows lifted. "Hmm?"

"That's not the whole story, is it?"

"She wanted more of my time. I didn't want more of hers. What are you, a cop?" Brake released, he pushed on the gas and fixed his stare on the road.

She made a face at that.

His stare clicked briefly from the dirt road to her, then back. "What do you want me to say?"

Jill ignored the question, not interested in a delving further, pulling down the sun visor hoping for a mirror. She immediately regretted looking at herself, flicking it back up. Dirt, dried blood she'd missed and her hair was caked too. The blonde caught the look on her face, shaking his head. "You look fine…"

Her expression softened a bit, blue eyes peering over at him fondly.

"For warmed over death." A slap to his arm and he laughed. The sound was genuine, free, and rarely heard even by her. His pearly smile was a wonderful thing to see after a week of little contact with him.

"Ass." She dropped her hand, looking out the passenger side window. The world sped past them at 45 mph, nothing but trees and mountains.

Fingers still absently drumming, his gaze flicked between the mirrors and the road. Radio clicked to a local talk radio, the drone of two men arguing politics filled the cabin of the truck.

She watched the sun crawl its way behind the mountain pass. Jill was quiet for a long time. Her blue eyes drifted to the blonde's face as he drove in the Colorado twilight.

Sunglasses off, he tossed them on the dash between them. "Are you in a hurry to get back?"

Jill shook her head.

The truck took a left off the freeway a few miles from the city limits.


End file.
